Small Packages
by Marika Webster
Summary: A little piece of Trowa's past that he never knew about throws his and Quatre's ideal relationship into a tailspin. Rating for language. Complete as of 12905!
1. From childhood's hour

A/N- For Patric without a 'k'.

Small Packages

Chapter 1

Emily stared at the screen of her laptop. Good, they would be here any minute now. She drew in a deep breath, immediately sending spasms through her chest. She clutched at the desk with her hands as she steadied herself, attempting to stop the coughing fit that over took her frail form. One hand flew to her mouth, catching the blood the was forced from her lungs before it could hit the immaculate mahogany surface. She rested her head on the smooth, cool surface of the wood as she waited to regain her breath.

Idly she pushed herself up from the chair and slowly made her way into the bathroom. She weakly scrubbed the blood from her hands, watching in fascination as the pink tinged water washed down the drain. She reached for the cup next to the sink and rinsed her mouth out. The coppery taste of the blood quickly replaced by the cool neutral taste of the water.

"Mama?" A small plaintive voice came from the doorway of the bathroom. Emily swirled to see a tiny figure clutching a stuffed lion close. Megan shuffled closer, leaning against her mother's leg and twining her arms around her knees. "Are you sick again, Mama?"

Emily forced a cheerful smile. "No honey, Mama just has a touch of a cold and it made her cough a little is all. I'm fine see!" She held her arms open wide.

Megan remained pensive for a moment before her cherubic face broke into a smile. "Oh, that's okay then!"

Emily reached down and lifted her daughter into her arms. The movement winded her and she leaned back against the wall for support. "Hey, Megan. Remember what Mama told you about having to go away?"

Megan's face grew serious. "Yes." The five-year-old hugged her lion closer.

The doorbell rang at the instant. A single ring, polite, yet Emily knew exactly who it would be.

She pushed herself away from the wall and made her way slowly through the study and down the hallway. "Well, little miss… I hate to say it. But there are people at the door that I need to go away with."

She paused at the top of the stairs and set the girl back on her feet, crouching in front of her. The doorbell came once again, this time followed by an insistent knock. "This is the Preventer's 1rst unit squad. Open the door at once or we will force our way in."

Megan's eyes grew round. Emily smiled. "They won't hurt you baby. They're just coming to take Mama for a little talk. Now, remember what I told you, be a good girl for Nanny. She'll be with you for a while at least. Never forget I won't be any farther away than your thoughts. Can you remember that?"

"Yes, ma'am." The girl intoned solemnly.

"Good" Emily grinned and plucked at the tip of Megan's nose. "Now give me a hug and then go find Nanny."

She was instantly enveloped in the sturdy embrace of the last child of a long line of Hanahan's, one of the oldest and most respected family's in all the earth sphere. Emily gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Now, off you go."

The girl nodded. The door was swung inward. A group of no less than 10 men crowded into the foyer of her home. Megan looked at them uncertainly and then turned and dashed off down the hallway. Emily lowered herself onto the top step of the marble staircase. "Gentleman, I've been waiting for you."

Heero stared hard at the video feed of the woman in the interrogation room. She'd been in custody for over 24 hours and still not given any reason as to why she had allegedly hacked into the Preventer's mainframe and accessed sensitive information. After Wufei had brought her in, the 1rst unit had conducted a thorough search of the home and confiscated three different computers.

They'd found evidence of her trail she'd so carelessly left behind. Either she was incredibly stupid, or she had wanted to get caught. She raised her cuffed hands to sip at the earl grey tea that had been brought to her only minutes before. Heero narrowed his eyes. She wasn't talking to them. Perhaps he would have some kind of luck that Wufei had not.

Moments later he entered the room. Silent as ever he slid into the seat across from her. Prussian blue eyes met clear grey ones. The expression on her face was friendly, open. The sandwiches provided for her still sat on their paper plate, untouched. He pointed at it and spoke conversationally. "Don't like ham?"

She smiled benignly and took another sip of her tea, speaking the first words she'd uttered since being brought in. "I know you didn't come in here to debate my lunch meat preference Mr. Yuy."

Heero's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "How did you know my name?"

She chuckled slightly, then cleared her throat. "You've worked a long shift haven't you?"

Heero frowned. How did she know that? He had indeed been at work since only an hour after she'd been taken into custody.

She leaned across the table and tapped his name tag with a delicate finger. "It's that simple."

He flushed slightly. "I'm here to ask you some questions."

"I realized that. However, I'll save you the trouble, Mr. Yuy. There's only one person I'll talk to, and unless I speak with him, you'll never find out exactly what I did as well as why I did it." With those words she leaned back in her seat and slid her eyes closed, a small smile playing at her lips.

Heero lifted his chin. She was offering information freely, but only to one person? This definitely was not standard procedure that criminals usually followed. "Who?"

"Trowa Barton."

It took quite some self control not to blink in surprise.

She opened her eyes once more. "I know what your thinking. You're thinking that you'll bully me into talking like those other incompetent fools of yours couldn't. It hasn't worked up to now and it certainly won't start working simply because of you, Mr. Yuy. The sooner you send in Trowa Barton, the sooner I talk." She smiled once more.

Heero detested playing games with the bad guys. Yet it would appear that she had indeed figured out his next move. He rose silently and exited the room, immediately setting off in search of Trowa.

Trowa spoke softly into the phone. "I'm almost finished here. I should be home a little early."

"Really?" A happy voice practically purred in his ear.

"If nothing comes up. How about dinner out? It's been a while since we went out."

"Sounds good. I'll see you when you get home."

Heero appeared at his side. Trowa glanced up at him. "I have to go, Heero's here. I'll see you soon."

He hung up and swiveled his chair to face his friend fully, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm sorry to do this one the first night you're getting off early. But there's a situation involving a detainee that we need your help with."

"What's going on?" Trowa replied holding back a sigh. There went dinner out with Quatre.

Heero turned to walk away, motioning for Trowa to follow him. "We caught someone hacking into the database and traced it down. Her name is Emily Hanahan."

Trowa almost faltered in his step. Heero continued speaking, never noticing Trowa's surprise. "She said she would only talk to you. I'd like to get this over with so I can go home and go to sleep."

"What do you need from her?" Trowa stopped outside the interrogation room.

"Motive, exact details about what information she accessed and who, if anyone, she may have passed that information on too."

"Consider it done." He placed his hand on the knob and twisted, letting himself into the room.

The detainee sat alone on the opposite side of the table. She'd changed in the last years since he'd seen her. She was considerably less healthy looking, and she'd been small to begin with. Strands of riotous brown curls that had once cascaded down her back had been shorn off close to her head. Yet, her eyes still sparkled. A vivid grey, like the sea at the height of a storm.

She did not speak when she saw him and all vestiges of good humor instantly disappeared. She smiled slightly, a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Trowa, it's been a while."

Trowa did not speak but hit a switch on the wall cutting off the audio monitoring device to the room. The conversation would still be recorded, but for the moment they had some semblance of privacy. That done he took a seat across from her and folded his hands before him on top of the table.

"They said you wanted to talk to me. I'm waiting."

"You still don't waste time on trivialities, do you? That's good. You don't disappoint me." She fell silent once again.

Trowa studied her. "You don't look well." His eyes landed on the sandwich. "Still don't like ham I take it?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Emily, what did you do? You're one of the most upstanding individuals I know, how did you get yourself into this mess?"

She smiled ruefully. "Okay, I understand. I won't waste anymore of your time. Here's the information you want." Emily bit her lower lip for a moment. She held up one finger. "Motive. I wanted to see you one last time. This was the most fun way I could think of. I've never been arrested before and I at least wanted to do something I'd never done before I die. This was the simplest way I could think of. By the way, my compliments to the person who designed your security software, it's excellent, do you have any idea how long it took me to get past all the traps?"

Trowa remained silent. Emily held up a second finger. "What I accessed. Information of current missions and investigations. I altered some superficial details of nonessential files connected with your database, nothing that would compromise the integrity of the Preventers or their missions."

"Superficial? Explain." Trowa regarded her impassively.

Emily smirked slightly. "Just check the Preventers Mission statement. I… altered it a little, nothing that can't be set to rights within 10 minutes or so."

"What else?"

"I downloaded some files onto my laptop to look through at my leisure. Mostly procedure manuals. On my laptop, you'll find some notes for improvement and comments on rather inane things, such as the waste of resources… like the stupidity on the requirement for cover sheets on the TPS reports. That's all I did."

She held up a third finger. "Lastly, I passed this information on to a friend of mine who specializes in streamlining data for easier access and better usage of resources."

She lowered her hands to the table again and gave a slight nod. "That is all. You will find all the information on my activities on my hard drive in a hidden file labeled MEG."

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" Trowa checked his watch scrumptiously. This entire farce of an interrogation had lasted less than 10 minutes.

Emily regarded him thoughtfully. "How do you feel about children, Trowa?"

The question caught him off guard. "What does that have to do with why you are here?"

She shrugged. "Nothing, it's just a question."

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "I don't dislike them."

"Good, that's good. One more thing, what will happen to me next?"

He glanced up at the two way mirror. The words were quiet. "As we speak your computers are probably being searched. I'll pass along the information you've given me. If what you've told me is the truth, things should be fairly easy on you. If you plead no contest, you'll either get off with Probation or a light sentence in a minimum security facility. What you've just admitted to me is a felony. Tampering with Preventer files is not taken lightly, no matter if you were just playing around."

He rose from his seat. "I'll make sure you are made comfortable until your arraignment is set. You will be brought a change of clothes and allowed privacy in the shower with a guard posted outside the door. You'll be here for a few days at least. Since you cooperated with us, you should be released within 72 with the posting of a minimal bond."

He turned for the door and paused before her rapped on the door to be let out. "Emily, if you wanted to see me you could have just e-mailed me." With those words he was gone before she could say anything.

Heero sat in the observation room, straddling a chair. Trowa signaled for the others in the room to leave. Once they were gone, Trowa sank into a chair nearby.

"You turned off audio surveillance." The statement of fact was simple.

Trowa stared through the glass to where Emily was still in the room. She had risen from the chair and was standing before glass, a faint, sad smile playing at her lips. "Yes. But I left the recorder on. It's all on tape."

Heero nodded and held up a small data disk. "It's all here."

Heero's eyes were directed to the young woman once again. He frowned slightly. "Why was she so adamant about talking to you?"

Trowa remained quiet for several long moments. He lowered his gaze to the floor. "She's just someone I knew long ago. I don't really care to discuss it."

"Gotcha." Was the tired reply. Trowa knew that Heero wouldn't push the issue. "What's she doing?" The blatantly curious question was almost a whisper.

Trowa's head snapped up. Emily held something tiny in her hands. He rose from the chair and stepped closer to the window. Her eyes were on the object she held between two fingers. Heero leaned closer over the back of the chair.

Emily licked her lips slightly and closed her eyes. As she moved, he realized what the object she held was. A small capsule that was a tell-tale shade of aqua blue. He'd had one himself at one point in time, during the war, Implanted in his back molar. A chill ran down Trowa's spine as he whispered aloud. "Cyanide."

Heero was off the chair and out the door in an instant. She opened her eyes and stared at the glass, almost as though she could see through it. Trowa shook his head slightly. He touched one hand to the window. "Don't, please."

She gave a final nod and popped the capsule in her mouth biting down as the door to the interrogation room was flung open. She did not turn to the door, but placed her handcuffed hands on the glass, exactly opposite his. It was only a split second before she collapsed to the floor.

The brunette Preventer closed his eyes and turned away. He heard the shouts of the guards hovering over Heero and the fallen woman yelling for a doctor. He swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath, stepping away and out the door. As he made his way to his desk to retrieve his keys and coat he did not acknowledge anyone or anything. Go home. It means nothing.

Quatre shut the door softly behind him as he entered his and Trowa's home. He automatically hung his keys from the hook next to the back door and dropped his coat and briefcase to the floor. Quietly he made his way upstairs to the bedroom he shared with Trowa. He paused in the doorway. Trowa sat on the settee in the corner by the window, staring out into the fading evening sun. He had not even taken the time to undress from his day at work.

The blonde moved forward silently taking a seat beside his lover. It was a long moment before he spoke. "Duo called me on my cell."

Trowa gave a singular nod. "It's nothing, Quat. Don't worry about it. It was just another foolish criminal."

"Please, Trowa. Don't lie to me about this. You know I can feel your pain."

Trowa turned his head to stared at Quatre through narrowed eyes. Quatre did not flinch or lower his gaze. He knew Trowa as well as the other man knew himself, he knew when to back down and when not too, this was one of those time it was vital that he did not.

Trowa drew in an unsteady breath. "Her name is Emily Hanahan. I knew her a few years ago, not long before you and I finally got it together. We were…. close for a while. We had a disagreement and I took off. I haven't had any contact with her again until today. I'm sitting here running through our conversation in my head. I can't figure out what happened to trigger something like this. I just don't understand."

Quatre remained thoughtful. "You know I won't patronize you with platitudes that mean nothing. Just know that when you need me, I'm here."

Trowa nodded and rose from the settee. "Now that you've decided you won't let me mope anymore, why don't you go get ready."

"Ready?" Quatre repeated in confusion.

Trowa forced a hint of a smile. "We are still going out tonight, right?"

"You mean you want to?"

Trowa nodded firmly. "It was simply a bad day at work, nothing more. I want to forget it, I don't want to think about it. You're the best distraction I could have."

Quatre flushed slightly. "Okay. I'll just go take a quick shower."


	2. I have not been as others were

Author's notes: This story is a deviation from what I normally write. I hope you enjoy it.

Small Packages

Chapter 2

The next week passed swiftly, Trowa threw himself into his work, accomplishing more in that one week than he had in the last month. Tuesday rolled around and he stretched quietly. He glanced at the small clock on his desk. Three pm. He had a meeting to be at in less than ten minutes. He rose from his seat and began to gather his things together.

Wufei paused at his office door. "Barton, there's a messenger here with a package for you."

Trowa groaned inwardly. He shook his head slightly. "Whatever it is will have to wait. Would you mind taking care of it for me? I have a meeting that I'm almost late for and then lunch with Quatre. I'll come by later to pick it up."

Wufei gave a nod. "Fine."

"Thanks." Trowa brushed past him and made his way down the hall towards the conference room.

The Chinese man frowned, vaguely disturbed by this blatant change in his friends demeanor. He resolutely turned his back on the retreating figure to go back to his own office. Wufei took a seat behind his desk, quickly signing off on the sheaf of papers presented to him by his secretary. "The messenger in here, Sir." He barely spared a glance at the young woman, giving a curt nod before turning back to his laptop.

A few keystrokes sent the reports he'd been working on into the cyberspace of the Preventers mainframe. The shuffling of feet on the other side of his desk caught his full attention. He stared at the young man, barely older than himself, expectantly. The man thrust his hand out. "Preventer Chang? My name is Robert Lake. I'm a junior partner with Hamstead, Reeves, and Cohen law firm. I'm here to deliver the necessary forms for Mr. Barton's approval. I understand you will be acting in his stead."

"Yes." Wufei spoke shortly, wondering where this was going.

"Good." The young man reached into his briefcase and extracted a sealed manila envelope, followed by a file folder. He placed the two items on Wufei's desk, tapping the file folder with his forefinger. "Your secretary already gave me a copy of the power of attorney you hold for Mr. Barton. If you will please just sign your name at the bottom of that first page followed by the abbreviation P-O-A"

"I know." The curt words were followed by a quickly scrawled signature. "Anywhere else?"

"Pages three, four and seven by the x's that I've made for you." Seeming to kow what was good for him, the young man spoke quickly.

Wufei signed hurriedly, not bothering to read the documents. They really weren't any of his business. He would pass them and the package on to Trowa in an hour anyway. He snapped the folder shut and pushed it back at the man. "Is that all?"

He received a nervous nod in response. "Yes. Where do you want me to leave her?"

"Her? Oh, the package. Just on the couch is fine. Good day, Mr. Lake." He bowed his head dismissively. "You can show yourself out."

The young man stood uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot. The last words he spoke were hesitant. "I certainly hope that everything works out for Mr. Barton."

"I'll relay your message. Good day." Wufei stated perfunctorily, never lifting his eyes from his laptop. There was a short shuffling of feet, then the feeling of someone staring at him. He spoke again, his patience wearing thin. "Please close the door behind you."

Several moments later, the door to his office was shut softly. The feeling however did not dissipate. He was still being watched. At last he released an exasperated sigh and lifted his head. Harsh words of Reprimand froze on his lips as he realized that the lawyer was gone. Sitting silently on his couch, sat the person who stared so intently at him. Vaguely familiar eyes stared at him, blinking owlishly. It was a child.

Wufei frowned. "Who are you?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." She replied promptly.

The frown deepened. "My name is Chang Wufei."

"My name is Megan Noelle Hanahan. Now we're not strangers." The tiny girl broke into a dimpled grin. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Wufei."

"Chang. My surname is Chang." He corrected gently. "What are you doing in my office?"

"Nanny told me to wait here and that my Papa would come for me. I'm not to move from this spot until he does." She clutched a well-loved stuffed lion closer to her chest as she curled chubby legs beneath her. Almost instantly, her mouth formed a silent "O" of surprise, as though she were remembering something important. Immediately she straightened her feet back out. "I'm sorry."

The frown eased a little, smoothing into an expression of confusion. "For what?"

"Nanny and Mama told me it was rude to put your feet on the couch with shoes on." She smiled sheepishly. "I won't do it again."

"How old are you?"

The little girl held up four fingers. "I'm five."

Automatically Wufei's hand extended, fingers outstretched. "This many is five." He realized what he was doing and shook his head. "What is your Papa's name?"

Megan shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you know your Nanny's name?"

Auburn curls bounced as she puffed her chest out proudly. "Yes, I do."

"What is it?" Wufei prompted gently.

"Nanny." She grinned again.

Wufei felt his heart sink. This was getting him nowhere. "Where is your mother?"

"Mama went to heaven." She frowned. "I didn't want her to go. But she said she had to. Are you my Papa?"

He shook his head adamantly. "No. Listen, do you think you can sit quietly for a few minutes while I try to figure this out?"

She nodded and put a finger to her lips, whispering to the stuffed animal. "We gots to be real quiet so Mr. Chang think, Leo."

Mr. Chang grimaced. What was a child doing in his office? Was is possible that this was what the lawyer had been talking about when he'd mentioned a "her"? Wufei had simply assumed it was something inanimate. He reached for the envelope and ripped it open without hesitation. Trowa would not be upset, of this he was sure. After all, Every pilot had every other pilot's power of attorney for just that reason. He extracted a thick sheaf of papers. On top was a sealed legal sized envelope addressed to Trowa in a distinctly feminine script. This he set aside. It was obviously personal in nature and Wufei drew the line there. The front page in the paper-clipped bundle was a birth certificate. It obviously belonged to the child. Megan Noelle Hanahan. Born December 2, AC 197. That would make her five and a half.

Obsidian orbs moved further down the page, past the weight and stats to the parents names. Mother: Emily Marie Hanahan, age 17. Father… Wufei's hand froze as he whispered in disbelief. "Barton is a father?"

He raised his eyes to the child who sat playing quietly with the stuffed toy. "Holy shit."

"It's not nice to say that word." Evidently, she had the hearing of a hawk.

"Sorry." He muttered distractedly and he returned his attention to the birth certificate. Promptly, he flipped through the rest of the pages. He found vaccination records, bank statements. Apparently this was one rich little girl. She'd inherited everything from her now dead mother. Emily Hanahan. That was the name of the prisoner that had been brought in last week on charges of tampering with the mainframe. So he hadn't been imagining things when he'd noticed that Barton had begun to act strangely. Perhaps the death of an ex-lover had struck him in some unknown way. Wufei exhaled heavily and dropped the papers to his desk.

He reached for the phone and dialed Sally's extension. Her secretary answered on the first ring. "Agent Po's office, this is Hillary."

"This is Chang. I need to speak with Sally."

"One moment please."

There was a momentary pause before his friend's voice came over the line. "Po."

"Sally, I need Barton out of that meeting, pronto."

"Wufei, why how lovely to hear from you. I'm fine, thanks for asking and I can't get Trowa out of that meeting, it's top priority. I couldn't even put Quatre's call through. Sorry."

"Woman, this is urgent."

"I'm sorry. Une clearly stated that she, Duo and Trowa were not to be disturbed for anything short of a natural disaster."

Wufei's eyes snapped to the child once more. "Fine. Tell him to call me on my cell. I'm going to see Quatre."

"Okay. Have fun." He could hear the smug satisfaction in her voice. It was rare that she was able to deny him anything, so the rare occasions were usually met with that familiar self-satisfied tone.

He dropped the phone onto it's cradle and gathered the papers together, placing them back into the envelope. He rose from his seat and grabbed his uniform coat, regarding the little girl with a forced smile. "You'll have to come with me."

She shook her head insistently. "Nanny said not to move."

His lips thinned as he spoke patiently. It wasn't the child's fault, after all. "It's okay. I promise. I'm a Preventer." He fumbled in his pocket for a moment to pull out his badge, showing it to her. "See? I outrank Nanny."

She thought for a minute. "Mama said that I always hafta do what the police say. Are you the police?"

He nodded brusquely. "Yes. I am the police. I'm taking you to your Papa's husband."

Megan frowned. "My Papa is married?"

"Yes. I'm sure they will explain everything to you. Please come with me."

She scooted off the couch and stepped forward, slipping her hand into his. "Yes, Mr. Chang."

Quatre heard the commotion before the elevator doors were fully open. Angry voices were rapidly rising over the piped in Muzak and clear down the hallway. "Mr. Winner will see me. I'm on the list."

"What list? There is no list?"

"The list of people he'll see no matter what meeting he's in. So don't tell me he's not here."

It was Wufei, arguing with Belinda. The young woman had replaced Lillian who'd finally retired. Quatre quickened his pace, tightening his grip of his briefcase. The anxiety that rolled through him was not his own, but Wufei's. He knew instinctively that Belinda had honestly told him he wasn't there. She probably didn't even know where Lillian kept the list. He turned the corner and was stunned to find Wufei leaning over his secretary's desk, palms flattened as he glared at her red-faced.

A wave over fear crashed over him. It wasn't Belinda's usual cool-headed signature either. He pivoted his head to the left and stared in confusion at the child who sat in the chair, quietly holding a tattered stuffed lion close. "Wufei, I'm here now. Is something wrong?" Quatre kept his voice purposefully even.

The Chinese man spun on heel. The blond could feel the relief as Wufei's anger all but disappeared. "Yes. I need to speak with you. It is urgent."

"It must be for you to come all the way over here in the middle of the day. Who is this?" He indicated the little girl.

Wufei released a controlled exhale. "That… " He jerked his head to the side. "is Megan Noelle Hanahan."

"Oh. I see." Quatre grew more confused. "I really don't see. Why don't we adjourn to my office." He turned to Belinda, offering an apologetic smile. "Belinda, will you please prepare some tea for us, and maybe see about some milk and something to eat for Miss Hanahan if she is hungry?"

His secretary nodded. Wufei turned towards the little girl, kneeling and smiling gently. The change was sudden and complete, serving to calm the child. "Stay here. Remember, I outrank everyone except your Papa and he's not here right now."

"Yes, Mr. Wufei." The tiny girl nodded emphatically.

Wufei rose. "And the secretary is not a stranger. Neither is he." He indicated Quatre with a flippant wave of his hand. "I'll be right inside his office."

Another tiny nod. Quatre was amazed by the girl's untainted trust in Wufei. He'd never known that the stern man had it in him to be so tender. Quatre unlocked his office and led his friend inside, gesturing to the sofa in the middle of the room. "Please have a seat." He abandoned his briefcase atop his desk and dropped into the nearest chair, giving Wufei his full attention. He considered his fiends to be family, and family always came first.

A large manila envelope was thrust at him. He hadn't even noticed Wufei carrying it. Reflexively he accepted it, noting that it had been previously opened. "I got roped into signing for a package that arrived for Barton."

"Yes?"

"Imagine my surprised when I found a 5 year old girl sitting on the couch in my office. She claimed her nanny turned her over to the lawyer who left her with me."

"Oh." Once again, Quatre found himself confused. Wufei shoved his hands in his pockets and began to pace. The blond was surprised, it was rare to find Wufei in such a state. "Please continue."

"I opened the folder you have there to see if it would shed any light on what was happening." He dropped onto the leather sofa. "Go on, open it. The papers can explain it far better than I could."

Quatre drew in a deep breath and pulled out the bundle of documents. A cream-colored envelope bore his husband's name in an elegant script. He placed it on the table before him, unopened. Staring up at him was a birth certificate. "Is this the girl's?"

Wufei nodded. Aqua eyes returned to the paper. "Emily Hanahan. Isn't that the woman who committed suicide last week?"

Another nod. Quatre's brow knitted in confusion. "Father's name, Trowa Barton."

He inhaled sharply. "Wufei, is this some kind of joke? If it is it's not funny."

There was a snort from his left. He lifted his eyes to Wufei. "So these papers are for real."

"Unless it's a very sophisticated forgery, I think it's very clear that your husband has just received custody for a child that may or may not be his."

"You think the woman would have lied?" Quatre considered this carefully.

Wufei shrugged. "Anything's possible. Sally refused to get Trowa out of that infernal meeting, so I brought her here. I thought I would let you deal with it."

Quatre nodded. "Of course. I'll call Iria. She's in the building. She can draw a blood sample from the girl and compare it to Trowa's DNA that's on file. I should have the results in less than an hour."

Wufei nodded. "What will you do with her?"

Startled, Quatre raised his head to stare at his friend. "That will be up to Trowa won't it? If she is his daughter. I'll have to discuss it with him before a decision is reached."

The door to the office opened quietly, announcing Belinda's arrival with tea. Quatre smiled gratefully. "Belinda, how is Miss Hanahan doing?"

"She's having milk and a that half of a tuna sandwich you had left from your lunch yesterday."

"Good. Please call Iria and have her bring her medical bag up immediately. Tell her to drop everything else, this is more important."

"Of course, Mr. Winner." Shooting one last poisonous glance to Wufei, the woman turned and exited the office to do as she was bid.


	3. I have not seen as others saw

A/N- Yeah so I got no reviews on the first chapter, but we're still gonna try. Cause I have a story to tell.

Small Packages

Chapter 3

Quatre strained to hear what his friend was saying to the little girl upon leaving his office. There was a solemn air about the tyke as she stepped into Quatre's office, her hand clutching two of Wufei's fingers tightly. To his astonishment, the Chinese man allowed the contact, patiently guiding the child towards Quatre. He squatted in front of the girl, dark eyes regarding her seriously. "Megan, I'm going to leave now. You stay here with Mr. Winner."

Grey eyes flickered between the two men as though she were nervous. The emotion evaporated after a few moments, replaced by an innate curiosity. "Yes, Mr. Chang."

"Be good."

There was a slight nod from the girl as she launched herself at Wufei, throwing chubby arms around his neck. "Will I see you again?"

"Of course, child. Now I have to go. Mr. Winner will let you call me on the phone if you want to."

"Really?" Those expressive eyes peered at Quatre once more as she released her hold on Wufei. She spoke to Quatre for the first time. "Do you promise?"

Quatre nodded reflexively. "Of course."

"I guess that's okay then." She flashed a bright smile at Wufei before turning around to climb clumsily into the antique Louis XIV chair in front of Quatre's desk.

Wufei gave a slight smile and nodded to Quatre. "I mean it. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all."

"Thank you Wufei."

With those words he was gone. Quatre leaned on the corner of his desk to regard his husband's would-be daughter. He studied her closer, now that he had a moment to think. She was small for her age, perhaps she got that from her mother. The seemingly bottomless grey eyes had to have come from her, as did the curls. Quatre had no idea what the woman looked like, or even who she was beyond the limited information Trowa had given him. There was a marked resemblance to Trowa in the face. The same nose and chin. Even her lips. Her hair, bound into a ponytail at the back of her head was the same shade of auburn as his husband's.

"May I call you Megan?" He started, hoping this was a good way to break the ice.

She blinked at him before nodding. "Yes. Are you my Papa's husband?"

It was Quatre's turn to stare blankly. "I… um… yes. At least I think so."

"How can you not know for sure?"

"It's… complicated." He responded weakly. Quatre exhaled heavily, reaching behind him to grab the container of chocolate covered strawberries he kept on his desk to sate his sweet tooth during the day. "Would you like one?"

"No thank you, I'm allergic to strawberries." She frowned. "Do you have any Mountain Dew? I like Mountain Dew."

"You're allowed to drink soda?" He grimaced. The last thing he needed was a hyped up 5 year old.

Sheepishly she shook her head. "No. Mama says they make me hyper."

"Then no. I'm sorry. You can't have one."

"Oh." They lapsed into silence.

Quatre's office door swung open to reveal his oldest sister. He sighed in relief. Just in the nick of time. "Iria! Thank you so much for coming." He pushed himself off his desk and strode across the room to embrace her.

She chuckled. "Quatre, it's not as though I don't see you every day. I work three floors down. Now what's the emergency?"

The blond stepped aside to gesture to Megan. "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

Iria's brows shot up, knitting together in confusion. "Um… hi." She waved to Megan, then spoke to Quatre. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Megan Hanahan. I need you to take a sample of her DNA and compare it with Trowa's."

"Trowa's? Does he know about this?"

"Nope. Not yet. I just thought I would take care of this part." He led his sister back to where Megan sat, clutching her lion tighter.

Iria angled the second chair to face Megan's. "Who is she, Quatre? Please explain to me what's going on."

"Well you know the woman who…" He paused, cutting his eyes to Megan. "That's not important. There's a possibility that she may be Trowa's daughter. I don't want to go into it right now. I'd just like you to do a test."

His sister's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Trowa has a kid?"

Quatre massaged the bridge of his nose to fend on an encroaching headache. "Yes. I mean… I'll know for sure when you do the test. Will you do it?"

"Of course."

"How long until you have the results?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"On if you'll let me use your laptop."

Quatre furrowed his brow. "Sure."

"In that case, I have just the gadget for it. I put it in my bag to take home to play with tonight. It's a hand held unit that analyzes and maps DNA in just a few seconds. It's brand new on the market. So far only the Preventers and us have one. They're cost prohibitive for practically everyone else." She set her bag on the desk beside her, blithely pushing Quatre's nameplate out of the way. She opened it and pulled out the machine, focusing her attention on the child. "Okay, Megan. I'm going to do a real quick test on you."

The girl's eyes grew round. "No needles!"

"I promise, no needles. It won't hurt a bit." Iria reached into the bag and brought out a swab. "You see this? I just need you to open your mouth and let me rub the inside of your cheek to get a sample of your DNA. DNA is sort of like a name tag that lives inside you and can help tell us who you are."

The fear disappeared, replaced by a giggle. "I know who I am."

"That's good. But this is for us grown-ups, so we can keep a copy of your nametag in our computer. Do you understand?"

Megan responded with a solemn nod, promptly opening her mouth. Quatre watched her comply with a heavy heart. They sat in silence for the few seconds that it took to get the swab they needed. The seconds stretched into minutes as Iria carefully mixed the solution for the sample, dropping a few drops onto the test strip to be mapped. She glanced up at Quatre. "Almost. It just needs a few seconds to proc-" The unit beeped, interrupting her. "Process. And we're done."

Quatre watched as she rose from the chair and hooked a small cable from the device to a printer. "I'm just printing out a hard copy for you to show Trowa. I'm also going to print out a copy of his to reference the two."

The younger man nodded. "Whatever you need."

Iria moved behind the desk and logged into the company medical database while waiting for the printout. Almost without looking, she reached below the desk and retrieved the paper from the printer. "Just give me a few seconds here, baby brother."

He nodded again, crossing his arms to restrain the impulse to fidget. It wouldn't do for the President and CEO of the largest corporation in existence to be nervous. The printer whirred to life once more as she printed out the map of Trowa's DNA from the database. This done, Iria pushed away the laptop and retrieved the fountain pen from where he'd abandoned it on the corner of his desk. She worked in silence for a few minutes, making marks on the page at seemingly random places. At last the released a deep breath and leaned back. "Well, I'd say the results are conclusive."

"And they are?"

Iria gestured to the two printouts, indicating the markings. "A child is a perfect genetic blend of it's parents. The possibility of two people even sharing two of these same patterns on the map is a million to one."

Quatre stared blankly at the papers. "I don't understand."

"Basically it boils down to the fact that Megan has a great deal more than two of those markers. In the sample I've just compared, it's pretty clear that the two are related. Quite frankly, there's no way the sequencing could be so similar unless she were his child. Genetically at least."

He nodded in understanding. "I see." Quatre straightened slowly and folded his arms once more. "Thank you, Iria."

"What are you going to tell Trowa?"

"The truth, of course. Listen, I'm going home for the day. I'll call you tomorrow. I think I'm probably going to end up taking some time off, a few days at least."

"You know, Quatre… I know this is sudden. But think about what Megan could mean to Trowa and to you. And I'm not just talking about as the first female heir to WEI either."

Quatre gritted his teeth and forced a smile. "Thank you, Iria. I will remember that."

As he ushered his sister out the door, the wheels in his mind began to turn with the staggering new information she'd just presented him with. A daughter. Trowa had a daughter. A child… what did this mean for his husband? Furthermore, what did it mean to their relationship?

"I do believe that's all gentlemen. Are there any questions?" Une's eyes roamed over the gathered group, small though it was. There were only three of them present. Her eyes nailed Duo as she added with a smirk. "Comments from the peanut gallery?"

He answered with a lopsided grin of his own. "I'm good, Ma'am."

"In that case, this review is hereby closed. Agent Yuy, Agent Maxwell, both of you are dismissed. Barton, please wait a moment. I'd like a word in private." She rose from her seat and followed the other two men to the door, closing it once more after they were gone.

Trowa watched impassively as she turned to face him, hands clasped behind her back. She studied him with a measuring expression for a few long seconds before speaking. "Barton…" She paused, then sighed before beginning again. "Trowa, against my better judgment I have let you go on for the last week without saying anything, however it disturbs me to see you this way."

He lifted his chin, not speaking. Emerald eyes sparked dangerously, betraying what she knew to be the temper her usually level-headed officer possessed but had never fully unleashed.

Anne dropped into the seat across from him and leaned forward, lacing her fingers together and holding them to her lips as she considered her words carefully. "I'm not speaking as your commanding officer here, Trowa. I'm saying this as your friend. I'm worried about you. We all are. Everyone can see it but you. You've become sullen, withdrawn. You're work is slipping and other than the rest of the pilots, you have the entire division terrified to even look at you. You don't speak except to snap or make one word responses."

His expression remained set as he regarded her, deathly still. His outward calmness was what startled her the most. "Trowa, I don't know why you are reacting this way to the death of a confessed criminal, or what relationship you had with her in the past, although from the tapes I gather you have had interaction with the accused at some point. You need to take some time off and sort this out. If you don't you risk endangering not only yourself but the lives of your teammates. That said, it's my job to inform you that I am suspending you with pay for the period of 2 months pending a psychiatric evaluation by the doctor on staff."

The glint in those dangerous eyes flickered in rage. His face contorted in uncontrolled anger. "You think I'm crazy!" The chair in which he had been sitting toppled over with the force of his movement as he surged to his feet to lean across the table. Trowa was not a large man by any means, he'd grown taller and broadened a bit in the shoulders, but had retained the lean elegance she'd come to recognize as an innate trait. His fist crashed onto the wood of the conference table with a sickening crack as the bones broke. He didn't even seem to notice as he loomed over her, his face darkened in fury. "There is nothing wrong with me, Ma'am." He spat the words out, twisting the last word into an insult. "You don't have any right to do this."

She rose to lean on the table, meeting his eyes levelly unflinchingly. "You'd better watch your tone, Barton. I am your commanding officer. I'm doing what's best for my people and that includes you. You can either take the leave I'm giving you or you can quit, which I know for a fact you won't do."

Trowa straightened and sneered, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his badge. He placed it vehemently down on the table. "I'll be keeping my gun, since it's not issue and belongs to me."

"Barton? What the hell do you think your doing?" She stared at him in disbelief.

A derisive snort emitted from him as he pushed the badge at her, sending it skittering in her direction. "I'm quitting."

He straightened and gave a mock salute. "Take your organization and your suspension and shove it up your ass." With those words he spun on heel and marched from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Une sank back into the chair, staring after him in disbelief.

Quatre carefully steered the car into the garage. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the little girl who sat so quietly in the backseat. Leo the lion was clasped tightly to her chest as she stared out the window. He killed the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt, twisting to smile at her. "We're home. This is where you'll be staying for a while."

"Does my Papa live here too?"

"Yes. This is our home." He exited the car and opened the back door. He was grateful that his car had come with child safety locks on the back door. He'd turned the on once as a prank on Duo, and then had found himself unable to disengage them. At least they had served their purpose on one occasion. She slid from the seat and followed him into the house through the kitchen door.

Rashid greeted him at the door. "Master Quatre, there is some sort of misunderstanding you may wish to attend to. Master Wufei brought over luggage and left it in our care. He said it belonged to a little girl and…" The large man paused for breath, noticing Megan who stood just inside the door. He straightened to his full height. "Master Quatre, should I see to unpacking the Lady's bags?"

He nodded briefly. "Yes, Rashid. This is Megan Hanahan. She'll be staying with us for a while, at least until permanent arrangements are made." Quatre gestured for her to come forward. She took a few hesitant steps and then latched onto Quatre's leg. "Megan, this is Rashid. He's a very good friend of mine and although he might look a little scary, it's just because Allah made him that way so he could watch over little girls like you and keep them safe. Isn't that right, Rashid?"

Aqua eyes nailed the older man, daring him to disagree. Rashid cleared his throat and nodded. "Uh… yes. Of course."

"Who is Allie?" Megan questioned in a small voice, unsure of whether to be scared or intrigued by the hulking figure.

Rashid knelt in front of her and broke into a smile. "Allah." He corrected gently. "It is our name for God."

"Ooooh." Her eyes lit up in understanding. "My Mama talked to God every day. She said I could to. And she also said that if I ever get sad cause she went to heaven that I could talk to God and he would tell her everything I said."

"Your Mama sounds like a very wise woman." Rashid nodded solemnly. "Now, perhaps it is time for you to take a nap since your eyes seem to be drooping a little."

"No!" She stated emphatically, stamping her foot, inadvertently bringing her shoe down on Quatre's foot. His mouth formed a silent 'o' of pain.

Rashid smothered a grin and looked at her sternly. "Yes. You will be like a wilted tulip by the time dinner rolls around and you do want to have some lovely roast lamb, do you not?"

Megan's nose wrinkled. "Yuck. I want a pizza with sausage and lots of cheese."

"I'm sorry, Little One, but we do not have sausage in this house. We will find something you like, I promise. But for now it's off to bed with you. You may nap with my daughter, Amala. When you wake the two of you will play together and be great friends."

"You have a little girl?"

Quatre sighed in relief as he grip loosened. He leaned down prying her gently away. "Amala is my neice. She's five, too. Now go with Rashid. I'll see you in a couple of hours. I promise."

She hesitated. "Will my Papa be here tonight?"

"Yes, and you want him to see what a good girl you have been, don't you?" Quatre smiled hopefully.

Megan nodded, and reluctantly allowed Rashid to take her hand, leading her upstairs to the room where Amala routinely took her afternoon naps.

Quatre watched them go, kicking off his shoes and socks and loosening his tie. He tossed it, his dress shirt and jacket over the back of a nearby chair and padded barefoot to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup of the bitter Turkish blend coffee. Rashid returned to find him hunched over the table, rubbing his eyes wearily. The older man lowered himself carefully into the seat across from Quatre. He studied him closely for a moment. "Why don't you go rest yourself, Master Quatre?"

The blond shook his head. "No, I have some things to work on."

"Work can wait. I won't pry, but your eyes can never lie, Master Quatre." He paused, then continued more softly. "Master Quatre, you are exhausted. You've been so worried about Master Trowa this last week that you have neglected yourself. If you don't get some rest I will be forced to call the doctor."

Quatre sighed. "You won't let me get away will you?"

"No."

He tossed back the rest of the rapidly cooling coffee and shuddered. "That is vile." The stoneware mug was placed on the table with a soft "clunk". "Promise to wake me up in an hour? I want to be awake when Trowa gets home. I need to talk to him before he sees Megan."

"Of course, Master Quatre."

The young man nodded gratefully and stifled a yawn, suddenly realizing that he was in fact dog-tired. He shuffled up the stairs, still barefoot, heading gratefully for his room and his nice, soft bed.


	4. I could not bring my passions

Disclaimer: My little experiment has come a long way. Thankies to everyone who has reviewed. I look forward to more feedback. I do not own Gundam Wing in any way, shape, or form. However, Megan, Emily, and Salina are entirely my own intelletcual property. Please ask nicely if you want to play with them. I'm really good about sharing my toys. :)

Small Packages

Chapter 4

Three hours later found Trowa climbing into Yuy's Volvo at the hospital. Unfortunately, his jeep was a standard and he couldn't shift gears with his arm in a sling. Funny how he hadn't even noticed the fact that his hand was broken until he'd attempted to put his own vehicle in reverse. In the end he'd called Yuy and tersely demanded a ride to the ER. As per his usual manner, Heero had merely glanced at his hand and shaken his head.

Trowa had been grateful for the silence. Though he knew his friend was seething at the stupidity of his actions, Heero saw fit to remain silent while the doctor set the bones and scolded him to be more careful in the future. Trowa now sat in the passenger seat, his entire body drained from the experiences of the day. His anger had drained long ago, turning into a sort of defeat. For the first time, he addressed his friend. "Thank you, Heero."

"No problem." The exchange was simple enough, but carried with it the weight of emotion that neither of them had ever been adept at expressing. "Don't forget to call Quatre at his office. He'll worry."

"Yeah, I will." Trowa responded just as quietly, leaning his head back against the seat rest and closing his eyes, it would appear that the Demerol was beginning to kick in. It seemed like barely a minute had passed before he felt the car give a small jerk as it crunched to a stop on the gravel driveway. He jerked himself up and shook his head lightly to clear it. "Thanks, man."

"Sure." Heero's eyes were shuttered as he nodded, staring straight ahead at the road. Trowa fumbled with the seatbelt and awkwardly opened the door with his left hand. He gripped his bottle of painkillers tightly and kicked the car door closed. A quick glance at his watch told him the time was almost 7:30. Quatre would be home soon. He could at least get changed and prepare himself to face his husband's wrath. Quatre sometimes walked a fine line between his empathy and his testosterone-driven need to protect his family. Where Trowa was concerned, the two often ran parallel. Contrary to what he knew most of their friends thought, he and Quatre were not a quiet couple by any means. They butted heads often and when they did, sparks flew.

Their relationship wasn't one based on Quatre needing protection or coddling, or Trowa needing constant reassurance of his own value. In all reality, it was more a meshing of two people who were so vastly different that there was truly never a dull moment. And one of those moments would surely come when Trowa relayed his actions of the day and just how his hand had become mangled.

It was sure to be one of their more colorful and lingually diverse arguments. That was another misconception many people had about Quatre. Innocent and angelic he may appear, but innocent and angelic he most certainly was not. The Arabian man could curse with the best of them, and rage with them, too.

Trowa shook his head and sighed as he inserted his key into the lock, letting himself into his home. He made his way into the kitchen and frowned when he noticed Rashid sitting at the table engaged in quite conversation with his wife, Salina. Upon his entrance, the woman glanced his way, moving quickly to cover her head with her hajib. Out of habit, he averted his eyes, waiting until she greeted him quietly. "Good evening, Master Trowa."

He forced a smile, though he could see the question in her eyes as she took in his bedraggled state. "Hello, Salina. Dinner smells wonderful."

"I'm making roasted lamb with potatoes tonight." She replied promptly.

Rashid however, was not so kind as to let the obvious injury pass without question. "What happened?"

"It's nothing. A stupid mistake." Trowa let the smile drop as he moved to the counter and fixed himself a cup of the fresh coffee. "I suppose it's a good thing I'm left-handed." His attempt at humor went unnoticed by the burly man. He doctored the coffee liberally with cream and sugar carrying it carefully to the table and setting it down before dropping into a chair.

He heard shrieks of laughter from the playroom directly above the kitchen. Rashid and Salina's private quarters were just on the second floor, accessible to the kitchen via the back staircase and the rest of the floor through a door usually kept locked. He took a sip of the coffee and glanced upwards. "I see Amala has a friend over."

Rashid opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when Quatre darted into the kitchen. "Trowa! I thought I heard you. You're home early."

"So are you." Trowa smiled minutely, a reflexive action at the sight of his husband after one of the worst days of his life. He studied the other man appreciatively for a moment. Quatre had evidently just emerged from the shower. His normally impeccable appearance was abandoned in favor of a pair of khaki shorts and a lavender button-down worn open over a white undershirt. Platinum hair curled slightly, still damp after what Trowa knew had to have been a long soak in the shower. Quatre only did that on a day that had to have been particularly stressful.

The blond man's smile disappeared as he caught sight of the cast peeking out of the sling. "Trowa, what happened to you?"

Trowa opened his mouth to speak and then snapped it shut again. He drew in a deep breath and then averted his eyes to his coffee cup. He took a long sip, stalling for time. Quatre, notoriously patient moved closer, taking a seat in the chair by Trowa's. Salina quietly set a cup of coffee in front of him. He nodded absently to her in thanks, but waited for Trowa to speak. Obviously there would be no deterring his husband today. Emerald eyes met questioning aqua as he exhaled deeply. "Une tried to put me on suspension. She termed it an 'involuntary leave' or something like that. I don't know what happened. I just, I guess I lost it. I broke my hand on the conference table while I was telling her to go to hell. I quit on the spot."

"Oh." Quatre's eyes flashed in silent anger. He remained perfectly composed however as he spoke. "Is that all you want to tell me about it?"

"That's all there is to say. She insisted that I wouldn't be able to go back to work until the staff psychiatrist cleared me for duty. It was an incredibly stupid thing to do on her part and I proceeded to tell her so."

"So essentially you lost your temper because she was showing concern for you?" Quatre pressed quietly as he took a long sip from his own coffee.

More stomping and shouts of laughter came from upstairs. Trowa glanced up once more. Rashid pushed his chair back and signaled to his wife. "We will calm them down, Master Quatre."

Trowa frowned faintly as he watched them go. He returned his gaze to Quatre and sighed. "I don't know. I just… I don't know. I guess I sort of snapped."

"Trowa, I need to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me. You know I won't be angry with you for being honest." Quatre's normally confident voice took on a hesitant quality.

Trowa nodded. "You know I will."

"I know." Quatre paused and then glanced upstairs. "When you said that you and Emily Hanahan were close, how close did you mean?"

The other man frowned. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Maybe nothing, but I need to know."

"Quatre." Trowa reached out with his good hand and covered his husband's. "You know that I would never do anything to hurt you. What happened with her was a very long time ago. I'm perfectly fine with her death."

"I don't quite believe you're okay with it. But that's something I can't help you deal with, Trowa. I'm asking for a completely different reason. It's not because I'm insecure or jealous either."

"Then why. This isn't something that's ever come up before." Trowa frowned.

"Just answer the damn question." Quatre's infinite patience seemed to be wearing thin.

Trowa moved his hand away from Quatre's and massaged the bridge of his nose wearily. "We were involved for a couple of months, that's all. I wasn't in love with her or anything."

"You keep saying that, Trowa. 'Involved' and 'close', but I need to know how close." Quatre insisted quietly.

Trowa growled in frustration. "That's exactly what I mean… close… if you're asking if I slept with her, then yes. I did. But you knew when we first started dating that I you weren't the first person I'd ever been with. And she wasn't either. And Emily knew that and she was fine with it." He barked out a harsh laugh. "Goddammit, Quat. Why the sudden need to know my sexual history blow by blow. You want a list? It's not like it affects you anyway."

"Shut up, Trowa. Just stop it." Quatre hissed at him, normally kind eyes suddenly glittering harshly. "You don't even know why I asked, so don't get sanctimonious on me. And when your "close" relationships pop up to turn our life together upside down then it sure as hell does affect me." He rose abruptly, sending the wooden chair skittering back. He crossed to the counter and pulled a file folder from his briefcase. A few steps and he returned to where Trowa sat. He dropped the thick stack of papers onto the table in front of his husband with a deliberate thunk.

Trowa blinked at them uncomprehendingly, then back to Quatre. "What is this about, Quatre. I don't have the energy for guessing games right now."

Quatre leaned forward on the table, his posture mimicking Trowa's own from earlier. He spoke lowly and clearly. "Emily Hanahan had a child. A daughter name Megan Noelle Hanahan. The child is five and a half. Wufei showed up at my office with her this afternoon and left her and her documents with me. I had Iria do a DNA test to make certain there was no mistake, Trowa."

"Quatre, again… what the hell are you talking about?"

"Think Trowa. Why would Emily Hanahan's 5 year old daughter end up in my office? Hm? What connection could she have with you, Trowa? Why would I have tests done? You're a really smart person, love. Think about it for a minute." Quatre stared at him hard.

Trowa frowned blankly as the wheels in his medication-fogged mind began to function. Shock rocketed through him as he slowly began to shake his head. "No."

Quatre nodded in tandem. "Oh, yes. Very much, yes. Congratulations, Trowa, it's a girl."

Trowa licked his lips and sat back in his chair, eyes never leaving his husband's face. "You're angry."

"Damn right I'm angry. Do you realize the kind of position this child has been left in? I couldn't even tell her if she was going to live here or not. I told her she was staying here for a while."

"She's…here."

"Yeah. And she's got an addiction to Mountain Dew that Salina seems to find cute, so guess what she's been drinking all afternoon. That's beside the point, Trowa. She doesn't even know you. You never thought to check back up on her mother just to make sure there were no loose ends?"

"Why would I think there would be? I was 16 years old for gods sake. Quatre, be reasonable! I'm lucky I even remember to use a goddamned condom!" Trowa spat the words angrily.

"Well now we obviously know that at least one of your condoms didn't work, don't we." Quatre snorted derisively before pulling his chair back up to the table and scooting it into place. He sighed heavily. "Trowa, I love you." His voice was suddenly quiet, defeated. "You have a huge decision to make and I don't want you to make it without me. And I also don't want you to rush into it. You're my family and that makes this girl my family too. Whatever you decide, I'll support you. We can talk later, after dinner, after you've had a chance to meet your daughter."


	5. From a common spring

A'N- After a lengthy period of time between chapters, I've finally gotten this one up. I hope you all enjoy it. Any suggestions for the plot would be most welcome and definately considered.

Disclaimer: I don't own GW, but Salina, Megan, and Amala are mine. Please ask nicely if you want to play with them.

Small Packages

Chapter 5

Emerald eyes stared in disbelief at the papers in front of him,. He'd been staring at them for the better part of ten minutes. Still, they made no sense. He flipped through them once more. Emily's daughter, no… his daughter now, had been the last Hanahan in a long and once-illustrious line of Hanahans. He paused on the bank records he'd flipped through earlier, having completely disregarded them the first time. The statements went back over five years, to just after the girl's date of birth. Her mother had deposited a certain amount every month, accompanied by a lump sum on every birthday. Trowa frowned as he read the amount. Megan Hanahan had far more money in the account than he had in his own.

He set the statements aside and reached for the cream-colored envelope bearing his name. Without hesitation he ripped it open and pulled out the papers from within. The top pages were a letter, the rest a copy of Emily's will. He set the will aside and began reading the bold script.

Trowa,

I won't call you my 'dear Trowa", because according to the papers in the last few years you are someone else's "dear" now. I suppose I should find it strange that the man I always held a flame for should end up with a happily ever after with another man. Don't get me wrong, Trowa. I'm happy for you, I really am. I can say that in all honesty because although you left me, you were never really gone. I can see your reflected back at me anytime I look into my daughter's eyes. I have had all the love a person could want in my lifetime, and if you are reading this, it means that now you have the chance to experience that same love.

I know you have questions for me, namely why I never told you about Megan and why I've ended my life. Probably more than that even, I'll try to be short and not take up too much of your time. Megan was a surprise for me, an answer to a dream. And she is the embodiment of my heart's desire come to life. She was born premature, and had a rough start, but is right on par for her age. The day I found out I was pregnant is the day you told me you were leaving, Trowa. I knew that if I told you about the baby that you would stay. I didn't want to hold you back from what I knew you were capable of. I knew from the beginning that you could never love me the way I loved you and I was selfish enough to want to hang on to that little part of you that God saw fit to give me. That day changed my life more than words can express. For the first time I knew what love really was. I knew that love in some small way truly was the ability to lose gracefully and still come out ahead.

I was diagnosed 6 months ago with pancreatic cancer, the same thing my father died of just 3 years ago. By the time any symptoms appeared I was too far gone. I tried all the conventional treatments and even some unconventional ones, as I sit writing this I know that I have only a few weeks left, at best. I've decided I would rather go out with a bang than a withered bag of rotting flesh my daughter will find in the bed one morning when she comes to wake me for our "us time".

For the last 3 years, Emily has been all I had. Now, Trowa, you are all she has. I have left the greatest portion of my estate in a trust fund for her to acquire on her eighteenth birthday. The rest goes to her guardian for her education and care. I have named you as her guardian in my will. Trowa, if you do not care for her, no one will. I do not want my daughter to suffer. Please allow her to live with the illusion that Mommy just left for heaven one day until she is old enough to understand.

Do the right thing, Trowa. For Megan's sake as well as your own.

Respectfully,

Emily Hanahan

Trowa lowered the letter, his throat catching as he realized the gravity of what he'd read. Feeling a sudden wetness trailing down his face, he absently scrubbed at his eyes with his casted hand. When had he begun crying? He didn't even feel sad, yet there it was an unmistakable feeling of loss welling up in his chest. And there was something else. Fear. He hadn't felt it in so long that he'd almost not recognized it. Not since he'd confessed his true feelings to Quatre had he felt such a sense of trepidation.

Beyond Catherine, he'd never had a family. Of course Quatre and the other pilots were his family now, but that wasn't the same. Blood family was different no matter what clich's might say. Somewhere in this very house, there was a little girl with half his DNA and blood coursing through her veins. He rose suddenly, pushing the chair back, sending it skittering into the wall behind him. He abandoned the papers on the table and headed for the staircase, spurred on by some unholy need to lay eyes on the girl.

Trowa stopped at the top of the staircase, hesitating at the door that led to Rashid and Salina's quarters. Pushing aside the bubble of apprehension, he knocked softly. The door opened a moment later to reveal Rashid. Amala hung on his arm, giggling happily. "Mr. Trowa!" She beamed and released a hand long enough to wave at him. "Abu is teaching me and Megan how to dance! He looks funny trying to belly dance." She chortled in glee and darted off to the main living area of the apartment.

Rashid graced Trowa with a nod. "Master Trowa. I take it you are here for Megan?"

Trowa opened his mouth to speak and then settled for a nod. Rashid stepped aside to let him enter. From the living room he heard two high-pitched giggles. He cleared his throat. "May I see her?"

"Of course. Please come into the sitting room. You will have some privacy. I will have Salina bring coffee." Trowa nodded gratefully as Rashid led him into the sitting room, across the hall from the living room. The taller man indicated one of the comfortable wingback chairs. "Please make yourself comfortable, Master Trowa."

"Thank you." Trowa spoke softly, watching as Rashid closed the door behind him. He gave a soft exhalation as he dropped unceremoniously into one of the chairs. The door opened a few moments later.

Salina entered, bearing a wooden tray with a coffee carafe and stoneware mug. She set the items on the side table and bowed her head lightly to him. She spoke softly, haltingly. "Master Trowa, may I speak freely?"

Trowa blinked in surprise. Salina had barely ever spoken to him beyond the necessary comments about dinner or some other household matter, and never without being spoken to first. He nodded mutely. She raised cinnamon eyes to regard him seriously. "My husband is helping Megan wash up. She was playing in the garden earlier and got quite dirty. She and Amala are getting along famously, I do believe it is the first time the girl has interacted with a child her own age. She's quite a precocious little thing. She's also very fragile right now, much like Master Quatre was when my husband first met him. Do you understand what I mean?"

Her eyes flashed warningly, though she waited for him to answer. Trowa nodded again, more slowly this time. She responded in a softer tone. "If I have ever seen a child more in need of someone to cling to, I could not tell you. I beg of you, Master Trowa. Be gentle with her."

Trowa bit his lower lip, wondering vaguely how he could be anything but gentle with a child he hadn't even known existed half an hour before. "Of course, I will Salina. And I promise, that whatever I decide, I will make sure she is happy and well-cared for. Whether or not I'm the one to give her that… well I just can't say right now."

"Of course, Master Trowa. Ultimately, that decision rests with you, Sir. I have only one more thing to say and that is, Rashid and I regard Master Quatre with great affection and respect. That also extends to you as well as all his friends. Should you decide to retain custody of the child, Rashid and myself will be here to help you and Master Quatre along the way. Our commitment does not stop at attending to him and his needs. You are family as well." With those final words she bowed her head one more time and quietly exited the room.

Trowa released a breath he had not realized he'd been holding and wearily prepared himself a cup of coffee. He took a long drought of the cream-cooled liquid and set the cup aside. A quiet knock sounded at the door. Trowa heart suddenly ended up somewhere in his throat as he made a vague grunt. The door swung inward, revealing Rashid's hulking form. The robust man towered over the smaller form next to him. He entered, guiding the child by the hand. Trowa's eyes lingered on Rashid's stern expression. The Arab spoke in low tones, yet his voice held was threaded with steel. "Master Trowa, may I introduce Miss Megan Noelle Hanahan."

The younger man let his eyes drift to the tiny form of the child that was so obviously Emily's. She was dirty beyond belief, though her face shone bright pink from scrubbing, Rashid's obviously vain attempt to tidy her up to presentable standards. His heart, which was still seemingly permanently lodged in his throat, hammered loudly in his ears. She was Emily's, there was no doubt about it. Grey eyes that could storm as angrily as the sea when provoked stared back at him, alert and alive with curiosity. Damp curls had been smoothed into a wild ponytail high on the back of her head, it was auburn, not a shade different than his own. Her nose was his as well, down to the little bump on the bridge, barely discernible to anyone who wasn't looking for it.

He did the only thing he could think of. He scooted forward in his chair and extended his hand to his daughter. His daughter… the words rang in his head, tightening his chest with the sudden weight of responsibility. He was accountable for the gangly girl in front of him. She accepted his hand calmly then broke into a smile. Rashid released his grasp on her and slipped quietly from the room.

Trowa regarded her intently, as though she were a precious piece of art to be studied and memorized. He could see traces of Catherine in her smile, the dimple that showed just a bit when her smile broadened into a grin. "Mama and Nanny said you'd come. So did Mister Wufei and Msiter Quatre."

She stated this with such a perfunctory tone that he couldn't help but smile a little. "My name is Trowa." He paused. "Trowa Barton."

"I'm Megan. What do I call you?" She stepped closer and rested her elbows on his knees, dropping her chin into her cupped hands. "Mama always called you my Papa."

He swallowed hard, then spoke quietly. "Will Papa do? Do you feel… comfortable calling me that?"

She puzzled over this for a moment. "Papa… " She shrugged lightly. "Works for me." He chuckled softly, the nonchalance seemed a bit out of character. She grinned in response. "Amala says that. She has a camel named Duo. She says that one of your friends gave it to her. But I have Leo."

"Leo?" Trowa echoed, suddenly feeling quite lost. "Who is Leo? You have a pet?"

"No. Leo is my friend. He's a lion that Mama gave me when I was a little girl."

Trowa did not point out that she was still quite a little thing. Evidently five and a half was very grown up. Instead he questioned softly. "Is he a real lion?"

"No, he's stuffed. Miss Salina took him to wash. She said she could put his tail back on and fix his leak." She nodded resolutely.

"He has a leak?"

"Yes." The matter of fact tone took on a lecturing quality. "His stuffing was leaking out from where I chewed his bum. That's why his tail came off. Nanny safety-pinned it on and he pokes me sometimes. But he doesn't mean to."

"He sounds like a very wise lion." Trowa's words were halting. "I used to work in a circus… with real lions. Do those scare you?"

Megan frowned, tapping her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I don't know. I've never met a real one before. Will you take me? Amala says her father took her to see a real camel once at the zoo. Mama didn't like the zoo, so we never went. She said that real aminals were never meant to be put in cages."

"Animals." He corrected gently.

"That's what I said." She spoke sternly. "So if Mama said it, then it must be right."

Trowa snorted in laughter. "I guess she was."

Megan pointed to his wedding ring. "Mama didn't have one of those. It's pretty. Can I have one?"

"I think you're a little young for jewelry aren't you?" Trowa furrowed his brows. The girl seemed to have the attention span of a gnat on acid.

"I don't know. Why do you wear that?"

"It's my wedding band. Quatre and I wear them to show that we are married. You Mama didn't have one because she wasn't married." He hoped his explanation would suffice.

She nodded. "Oh. When I get married I'll get one."

He nodded. "Yeah, probably."

Grey eyes lit up. "Will you marry me?"

Trowa licked his lips then shook his head. "Uh… I can't. I'm already married to Quatre and you wouldn't want to marry me anyway."

"Why not?"

"Um…" He scrambled for an answer. "Well, umm… I snore. And uh… Papas don't marry their daughters. You'r future husband… " he paused, searching for words. "or wife, would be jealous. Wouldn't they?"

She stared at him pensively. "I guess I'll just have to marry Mister Wufei. He's handsome."

Trowa frowned slightly. "I guess… I don't know." A thought crossed him mind. "Why don't you ask him when you see him again?"

Her grin returned. "I will. You're smart."

"Thanks."

"Can I go play with Amala now?" She flashed him a hopeful glance.

"Um… did Amala's mother say it was all right?" He licked his lips uncertainly.

Megan nodded. "She said I could as much as I wanted if it was alright with you."

"Well, I guess that's fine."

"Okay." She turned and scampered towards the door, then paused and darted back. Trowa sat, stunned as she clambered clumsily into his lap and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "I like you, Papa."

He watched her go, his hand reflexively coming to touch his face where she'd kissed him. She flew out of the room, calling out to her friend as she went. Trowa rose from the chair, following her to the door. She giggled as she rounded the corner into the living room. "Amala! I met my Papa! He's as nice as yours and he said Mister Wufei would marry me!"

Trowa felt his chest relax as laughter, genuine laughter bubbled out of him. He made his way to the door, his heart strangely lifted, though the weight of his coming decision weighed heavily on his mind.

Abu- Arabic for "Father"; formal


	6. From the same source I have not taken

Disclaimer- Not mine, don't sue, got nothing.

A/N- Special thanks to TC-sama for beta reading this chapter. And many thanks to everyone who has reviewed. If you're not already on the list please feel free to follow my profile for a link to my mailing list page. Comments, suggestions, and criticisms are always welcome.Flames will be used to light the lesbian candle o' love.

Small Packages

Chapter 6

Quatre pushed the perfectly roasted lamb around his plate absently. The silence at the table was overwhelming. He could feel his husband's turmoil. A veritable swirling of anxiety and fear and no small amount of apprehension emanated from the tall slender form that sat in the chair across from him at the massive dining table. Even Megan seemed to sense the discomfort. She hadn't spoken a word since sitting down. Similar feelings were coming off the girl, equally as complex, though her own confusion was somewhat more pronounced.

He forced a smile and gazed at the girl. "Megan, did you enjoy your time with Amala?"

She glanced up from her plate and nodded briefly before dropping her eyes once more. Quatre cleared his throat and tried again. "Trowa did you know that Megan is quite the artist? She drew the best picture of a lion I've ever seen."

Trowa's eyes flickered to Quatre as he nodded and then lowered his gaze to his own plate. The resemblance in their action was uncanny, right down to the way they clenched and unclenched their fists around their forks. Trowa's action was less visible, but Megan made no attempt to hide her anxiety. At last the child spoke. Her voice betrayed her fear. "Papa? Do you not like me?"

Ahh, now things were getting interesting. Quatre watched as emerald orbs flickered to life, coming to rest on the girl. He shook his head minutely. "No. I'm not."

"Oh." She fell silent once more, lapsing into thought. Her brow furrowed as she spoke again. "I thought you might not like me since I didn't ask before I gave you a kiss."

Trowa's eyes softened visibly. "No, Megan. I didn't mind. I'm just… not used to being a … papa… yet. I promise I'm not angry and I like you."

Quatre resisted the urge to interfere, instead choosing to listen with his heart as he felt Megan's anxiety all but subside. "That's good. Cause I like you too and I don't want you to not like me."

"I…" Trowa frowned, fighting for words. "I promise I'll always likes you. Does that make you feel better?"

"Yes, Sir." She broke into a grin before turning her eyes to Quatre. "What do I call you?"

Quatre's heart fluttered as he regarded the child. He hadn't thought of this before, for some reason it had not crossed his mind to think of a name beyond Quatre. He searched his mind frantically. Father… that was a hard sounding name. He didn't want to be like his own father. Papa… no that was what she called Trowa. Daddy… No. Too Duo. The words slipped from his lips before he even finished thinking them. "I called my father Abu. But… if you want you can call me Baba, it's an affectionate variation. Sort of like Papa, but in Arabic."

Megan's nose wrinkled as she giggled. "Papa and Babu."

"Baba." He corrected gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I like Babu better… can I call you Babu?" She flashed him a hopeful grin, dimples dancing.

He chuckled softly. "Babu it is."

"Babu and Papa… do you like that Papa?" She glanced at Trowa, who sat stunned.

His husband nodded. "Babu… it suits him very much." Trowa's smile was genuine, and Quatre felt another flutter in his chest. But this time it wasn't his… it was Trowa's. Quatre cleared his throat. "Well then, we should eat before it gets cold, don't you think? And then it's a bath and off to bed with you."

"I don't like my room." She spoke up without shame. "It's too far. Mama always let me sleep close to her for if I had a nightmare."

"Well then, while you bathe, Papa and I will move your things into the room next to ours. Will that be better?" Quatre glanced to Trowa for confirmation.

His husband nodded in agreement, then spoke softly. "I have a two way radio you can put by your bed if you want. You can call us if you have a bad dream. One of us will come."

"Do you promise."

Trowa nodded. "I promise."

"Pinky swear?" The persisted.

Trowa frowned as her extended hand. He stared for a moment. Quatre wiggled his little finger at Trowa in explanation. His husband's lips formed an 'o' of understanding and a long arm snaked across the table to hook his finger with Megan's. "Pinky swear."

"Okay." Megan tore into her food with a voracity to rival Duo's. The rest of the meal was considerably more pleasant than the beginning.

An hour later Quatre tucked Megan into the massive four poster canopy bed in what had been his mother's suite of rooms. Except for cleaning, the rooms hadn't been used since her death. He brushed a kiss across Megan's forehead. Her eyes were beginning to droop already. "Goodnight, Megan."

"Night, Babu." She murmured sleepily. "Will you please tell Papa that I want to kiss him goodnight too."

"I sure will." He nestled the now mended lion between her arm and chin and the pillow.

She immediately latched onto it. "Babu?"

He paused as he rose from the edge of the bed where he'd sat. "Yes?"

"Will you read more of Ali tomorrow night?"

"Yes, Megan. Now go to sleep. Remember to use the radio if you need us." He moved to the door and flipped off the overhead light, leaving the room illuminated by the light from the hallway. "Good night."

He padded barefoot to the room across the hall and tapped on the bathroom door. It opened immediately, revealing Trowa with damp hair and clad only in a pair of well-worn pajama pants. He raised questioning brows at Quatre. The blond man smirked lasciviously. "You look even better without the pants." He moved closer, winding his arms around his husband from behind and pressing a kiss to the small scar on his shoulder. "Megan asked me to tell you to kiss her goodnight."

Trowa's brushing slowed for a moment before he nodded. He leaned away, spitting out the toothpaste and cupping his hands under the running water to rinse his mouth out. After drying his mouth on the hand towel, he turned, capturing Quatre's lips for a brief sweet kiss. "I'll be right back, then can we talk?"

"Of course, muhib." He leaned into the kiss and then released Trowa, hands straying to the buttons on his shirt. He watched Trowa's retreating form as he moved back into the bedroom to change into his own nightclothes.

He crawled beneath the covers, flipping on the radio that sat on Trowa's side of the bed. By the time he had fluffed the pillows behind his head and smoothed out Trowa's own, the auburn-haired man was back. Quatre smiled readily, though he felt his own nervousness creeping back in. Trowa snapped off the lights and slid beneath the covers, gravitating towards his husband. Slender arms snaked around Quatre's waist, pulling him close for a lingering kiss. Quatre readily obliged. Trowa's casted arm slid around his middle to rest his arm more comfortably. "So, we need to talk. Tell me what your thinking."

In the darkness there was a soft exhalation. Quatre waited patiently. Trowa had a way with words when the situation called for it, but with a subject he wasn't entirely confident with, sometimes his calm tended to falter. Quatre remained still, peering at Trowa in the moonlit room. The words came haltingly at first. "I'm sorry about losing my temper… you were right. When you said… that it affected…both of us. I'm really sorry about that. I'm not sure how I feel about this whole situation yet. I haven't the first clue what to do. I mean, father's usually have time to work up to the hard stuff, like talking to their kid. I feel like I've been thrown onto a roller coaster midway down a hill and I'm scared. I'm scared shitless."

Trowa's arms tightened around him. Quatre gently brushed the overly long bangs from his face before drawing Trowa's head to rest in the crook of his neck. Trowa stumbled on. "I'm not sure what to do. I… I'm drawn to her, Megan I mean. It's amazing to think that she's a part of me. But it's terrifying to think that I'm responsible for her. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. I've never had parents, where would I even begin to learn how to be one. I'm afraid I'd fuck her up for life."

He paused again, a tell-tale shaking beginning in his shoulders. Quatre simply moved his hands to stroke the back of his lover's head. "Quatre… what do I do? Please just tell me what to do. I'll do whatever you say is right. And I swear I'll never pick a fight with you again."

Quatre chuckled lightly and laid a gently kiss to Trowa's head. "My love, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. And besides you shouldn't make promises you know you haven't a snowball's chance in hell to keep. We'll be fighting till the day we die. Trowa, I can't give you the answers you want. I wish I could. Allah, how I wish I could. But this decision is yours to make. I will say that I wouldn't mind having Megan around and she reminds me a great deal of what we're missing in our lives. This house was positively alive this afternoon, her little being was thrumming with energy and vivacity. She'd be happy here. But she's little and she'll adjust quickly whether she's with us or with someone else."

Trowa drew away, lifting his head to regard Quatre. The blond continued. "Trowa, this decision does affect us both, but it's your decision to make. Only you can decide if your ready for the reality of 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for the rest of your lifetime being a father."

"What about you, Quatre? Would you… be happy if I decided to have her stay?"

Quatre raised a hand to Trowa's face, wiping away the tears that still lingered there. Emerald orbs were a light jade from sheer exhaustion and worry. "Trowa, I would be thrilled if that's what makes you happy. But I'm not going to try to sway you either way. You remember our vows, Trowa?"

His husband blinked wearily, then spoke in a low voice, quoting the vows they'd written on their wedding day, "I swear to lift you up and catch you when you fall. I pledge to drive you forth to your dreams never daring to hold you back from your joy." He trailed off then clutched Quatre to him, the trembling subsiding. "I love you, Quatre."

A smile touched Quatre's lips. His heart was breaking for his lover. The repeating of the promises they'd made on the day of their marriage recalled the pure and utter hell they'd gone through in the beginning, back when Trowa had been insistent in his uttering of those words for the first time. It still strained Quatre's heart to imagine that he'd ever been foolish enough to try to push Trowa away. His embrace tightened fractionally until he released Trowa long enough to crush their lips together in a bruising kiss. Aqua eyes glittered as he released him, his voice dropping to a throaty growl. "Do we get to have make up sex now?"

Trowa's lips curved into a grin. "I don't know… are you up to it?"

Quatre felt his stomach tightening as Trowa's shift in thoughts rolled off him. "I wouldn't worry. I'll manage." He sniggered against Trowa's lips. "We'll just have to get creative to get around that cast." He lifted his hand, flicking his forefinger against the plaster-encased extremity. The taller man's only response was a soft rumble from his chest as he maneuvered his husband to straddle his hips.


	7. My sorrow I could not awaken

A/N- Special thanks need to go out to TCM for his spectacular job of beta reading. He's doing a great job. My muse of so many years has bitten the dust… let us have a moment of silence for S0x. He will be sorely missed. However, I was recently introduced to my new muse, this chapter is Calliope's debut, please be gentle with her… it's her first fic.

Additional thank need to everyone for their wonderful feedback, especially to the person who left me the proper Arabic terms. The corrections will be made to the previous chapters. Anyone who is interested in joining my mailing list is welcome to follow the link in my profile.

I adore feedback, critical and flattering are equally nice. A little note to Mint Maxwell, I'd like to talk with you if you'd care to e-mail me. My address can be found on my profile. Again, I hope you enjoy the fic, thank you for reading.

Disclaimer- Not mine, Don't sue, Got nothing.

Small Packages

Chapter 7

Trowa stretched as he woke, the joints in his back snapping deliciously. He burrowed his face further into the pillow until he heard the radio next to his head crackle to life. "Papa? Are you up yet?" The whisper was amplified, obviously due to Quatre turning the volume up. Trowa groaned and rolled over, glancing at the clock. 7:00 am was an ungodly hour to be up, especially when he didn't have to go to work. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of a fist and grasped the radio, yawning widely. His entire body shook in it's effort to revive itself from his groggy state.

"I'm here." He spoke into the handheld unit as he pushed himself up in the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sir. I need help with my shoes."

"Why?" He sighed heavily as he released the talk button.

Megan's tinny voice came back to him. "I tried to tie 'em but they got all tangled up and now I can't move."

Trowa frowned. "Okay. I'll be right there." He tossed the covers back and blinked blearily. How on earth had he fathered a morning person?

He left the warmth of his bed and padded barefoot across the hall to where Megan's door stood open. She sat in a heap in the plush carpeted floor, little feet extended as she helplessly tugged at the offending shoestrings. Trowa knelt in front of her, studying the knots. "You'd make Duo proud with these knots, little bit." The endearment slipped off his tongue unbidden.

She grinned unrelentingly and stopped squirming as he diligently worked to free the knots. He cursed beneath his breath. When he glanced up, her mouth formed a silent "o" of surprise. She grinned mischievously. "That's not a nice damn word."

It was Trowa's turned to stare in shock. He chuckled vaguely before catching himself and shaking his head. "Only grownups should say that word. It's not nice for little girls to use."

"But you said it." She replied matter-of-factly.

"I know but you don't have to do what I do… " He paused, this line of thinking sounding wrong even to him. "You're right. I won't say it again. I'm sorry."

She nodded succinctly. He at last untangled the mass of string and carefully tied the two shoes separate from one another, securing them in a double bow to prevent a repeat event. "I'll untie them when you get ready to take them off." He sat back on his heels and regarded his daughter. She'd evidently dressed herself.

As though sensing his perusal of her attire, she grinned proudly. "I picked it out myself! Do you like it, Papa?"

Vivid… that was the only word for it. The glaringly bright ensemble consisted of a candy apple red skirt and a fuchsia tank top that declared Megan to be a "Superstar". The mustard yellow socks were paired with neon green shoes that were ugly enough to make Heero do a double take. He cleared his throat and nodded. "It's… colorful."

Megan nodded as though that settled everything. "Will you braid my hair?" She extended a wide-tooth comb to him.

Trowa accepted it carefully and nodded. He'd never braided anyone's hair before. Only the tails of the horses at the circus. Surely this couldn't be much different. Gingerly, he began to run the comb through the strands of hair. He reached a tangle and tugged gently. She winced. "You're really bad at this."

Trowa froze in the face of the blatant criticism. Somewhere in the house a door slammed. A faraway voice called from the entryway a floor below. Trowa merely stood stock-still. He had no clue how to deal with this. He carefully extracted the comb from the tangled mass and reached for the ponytail holder that lay on the vanity. "How about a ponytail?"

"I want a braid." She stated stubbornly.

He felt his heart sinking. "I don't know how to braid." He admitted the defeat softly.

"TROWA! Where the hell are you, man?" Duo's voice preceded the footsteps that pounded up the stairs. Relief flooded through Trowa as he glanced to the door. "In here, Duo."

"Hey, man!" The American halted in the doorway, face slightly flushed from running. He was grinning maniacally. The expression faded into one of confusion as he spotted Megan. "Hello."

"Hi!" Megan chirped happily. "Who are you?"

"I'm Duo." He answered in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. "Who are you?"

"My name is Megan Noelle Hanahan." She returned promptly. "You have a braid… will you braid my hair since Papa doesn't know how?"

Trowa could feel his face flaming as amethyst eyes flickered to him in shock. He lowered his eyes and stepped away from Megan, sinking onto the unmade bed. When he raised his gaze again, Duo was still staring. His friend stepped towards him and wordlessly took the hair band and comb from him. Trowa watched carefully as Duo made quick work of the thick curls, taming them with a little water from the squirt bottle on the vanity and combing through them in small sections. The braid was short, stopping between Megan's shoulder blades. Duo stepped back to survey his work. He stood in silence until Trowa spoke in a quiet voice. "Megan, go ask Salina to give you some breakfast."

"Yes, Sir." She darted forward and rose on her tiptoes to peck him on the cheek before grinning at Duo. "Thank you for braiding my hair, Mr. Duo. Maybe you can teach my Papa."

Duo nodded mutely. Megan scampered from the room, calling for Salina as she went down the front staircase. The two men remained silent until Trowa spoke. "I have a daughter, Duo."

"So I gathered." Duo voice lacked inflection. Gone was his usually boisterous teasing and baiting. Instead he fell silent once more. He moved to the vanity and grabbed the stool, setting it in front of Trowa and taking a seat.

Trowa searched for the words. "She is… was, the daughter of Emily Hanahan."

"The chick that offed herself?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I…" He paused, seeking the right words. "Emily and I were involved a few years ago. It was before Quatre and I were ever together. It was a short-lived fling. She wanted to get serious and I didn't. I left her the very day she found out she was pregnant. And she never told me. Until yesterday I had no idea Megan even existed and now I'm suddenly supposed to be a father."

"It'll come to you." Duo leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. "You have forever to learn."

Trowa snorted. "I don't know about that."

"What do you mean?" Once again, Duo's voice was carefully neutral.

"I haven't even decided to keep her or not. I haven't thought that far yet. I'm still reeling from all of this." His voice held a thread of frustration.

Duo's façade of calm crumbled as he spoke in disbelief. "You're not seriously thinking about getting rid of her."

Trowa's eyes snapped to his friend. "Not serious? Of course I'm serious. What do I know about kids."

"You were one once." Duo retorted sharply. "Given the kind of childhood you had, the kind that both of us had, you know how much it hurts to grow up knowing that somewhere out there, there's someone who may or may not have loved you. Not knowing whether or not you were wanted sure as hell makes a difference in a person, Trowa. You can't just throw her away."

"I'm not throwing her away. I haven't decided yet. And that's exactly my point. I didn't have a childhood, and because of that I don't know the first thing about what to do." Trowa's voice cracked slightly, but he barreled on. "It breaks my heart to think that I can't give her what she needs because I should be able to. I'm her father and I don't know if I can be what she needs, Duo. I mean, for Christ's sake I couldn't even comb her hair without hurting her."

The braided man's face smoothed out into a purposeful expression. "So you'll learn. You saw me use the water and do a small section. You learned from that. You won't hurt her again. See, it's not so hard. She's so little, dude. I know you're probably afraid you're going to break her or something. But you won't I promise. As long as she knows she's loved everything will be okay in the end. That's what I remember most about my childhood. How bad it felt when I lost the first people I ever loved and how alone I felt after that. She's lost someone who's been there from day one, and now she's about to lose the only family she has left." Duo spoke seriously, his tone soft yet unrelenting.

Trowa sighed heavily and scrubbed at his eyes. "Listen, Duo. I really can't deal with you on your soap box right now. Can I at least have some coffee first?"

"I have a better idea." His friend replied. "Go have a shower and get dressed and we'll go out for breakfast. It's been a while since we've talked. I'll call Wufei and Heero and have them meet us since they don't have to be in until late shift today."

Duo's tone brooked no argument. Trowa wearily rose from the bed and nodded, padding towards the door. "Have coffee ready for me when I get downstairs." He gave the order with a gentle snort as he suppressed a yawn.

"Will do. I don't really feel like dying just yet. I know better than to really fuck with you till you've had coffee."

* * *

Une tapped her fingers on the desk absently. The paperwork for the discharge of Trowa Barton sat open before her. She held a pen loosely between her fingers and grimaced. Barton had a problem, one that he needed to address before he would be fit for duty. He had quit in such a temper that she'd immediately begun processing the papers for his removal from the force. However when they'd arrived on her desk this morning she'd hesitated. Despite his outburst and irrational behavior since the death of the suspect a week prior, his record was otherwise impeccable.

He took orders well and was an invaluable asset as a leader of his field team. His work ethic and professional manner were unparalleled with the exception of the other former Gundam pilots. He was almost clinical in his treatment of missions, his success rate higher than anyone, even Yuy. His body count was lower than anyone's save for Yuy as well. The Japanese man had taken a vow never to kill again and to everyone's surprise his field record supported that vow. Barton however did not hesitate to do what needed to be done. Maxwell would kill anything that moved and didn't wear a Preventer's badge.

Une shook her head as though to clear it. With a muttered curse she dropped the pen and snapped the folder shut, shoving the papers into a desk drawer unsigned. Time was not a factor in his discharge. Perhaps he would come around after a few days to think things through. Barton was not irrational, not normally. The connection between himself and the deceased woman must have run deeper. There was no other explanation for it. She'd listened to the tape of the interrogation, heard the affection in the woman's voice.

The tone was almost undetectable as the woman had spoken to him. Barton's responses were nothing less than what she would expect from one of her top level officers. What had gone wrong? Why had the woman committed suicide when she'd committed crimes that were minor enough that her sentence would have been incarceration for a few months at the worst. Une reached for the phone and dialed the extension she wanted from memory.

"Yuy." The Japanese man's face filled the screen, though his gaze was averted to something on his desk in front of him.

Une spoke softly, her voice betraying nothing of her confusion. "Yuy, have you received the coroner's report on the suicide of the Hanahan woman?"

Odd blue eyes flicked to the screen. He frowned ever so minutely. "It came in this morning. Cause of death was cyanide poisoning. Aside from the cancer, there was nothing amiss."

"Cancer? Why wasn't I told about this?" Her tone sharpened.

He did not so much as flinch. "Because we didn't know about it until the report was submitted for the file."

"What kind of cancer?"

"Just a minute." He leaned out of the picture. A few seconds later she heard the rustling of paper on his end. "Pancreatic cancer. She was in the last stages. The medical examiner noted that the deceased had only a few weeks left to live at the most. Her tox screens showed no evidence of radiation or chemotherapy drugs."

"I see." She gritted her teeth.

"Anything else?" He asked patiently.

Une shook her head. "No. Thank you." She disconnected and quickly dialed Sally's extension.

The blonde woman answered with a perky grin. "Lady Une! You don't usually call me. What can I do for you?"

"I need to know how a patient with pancreatic cancer can have no traces of medication for treatment in their blood."

Sally appeared perplexed. "Well, it depends. Pancreatic cancer is a very fast illness. The patient usually displays no symptoms until it's too late to be successfully treated. Sometimes the person with the illness chooses to cease treatment to improve the quality of the time they have left. Or their doctor could have agreed with them that treatment was not going to help and forgone it altogether. Suicide rates for that type of disease are astronomical. Some people don't want to deal with the physical pain or the side effects of the pain medication and take their own lives before the end comes."

Une nodded, pondering Sally's words carefully. "So suicide is a common method of escaping the reality of what's wrong." She raised her eyes from her desk. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Po."

"Of course. Have a good day."

"You too." Une disconnected the call and pushed her chair from her desk. She reached for her cover (1) and resolutely tucked it under her arm. She needed a break. And right now seemed a very good time for it. She needed some time to digest this information and work out the connections. As she exited her office, she spoke brusquely to the young male secretary. "Cancel the 9 o'clock staff meeting. Something's come up. I can be reached on my cell."

The young man didn't have a chance to respond as she strode purposefully towards the elevator.

* * *

(1) A cover is the military term for the hat that is a requirement for a uniform when not indoors. 


	8. My heart to joy at the same tone

A/N- As promised, a special guest appearance by Miss Mint Maxwell. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer- Not mine, don't sue, got nothing.

Small Packages  
Chapter 8

Salina placed the plate in front of Megan. The little girl stared dolefully at the left over roasted lamb from the previous night. She picked up her fork and poked at it suspiciously before speaking. "Miss Salina?"

"Yes, little love?" The housekeeper glanced at her from where she stood at the counter chopping vegetables for the evening meal.

"May I have a ham sandwich?" Megan's lips curled into a distasteful grimace. "I don't like this."

"I'm sorry, Megan. But we don't keep pork in this house." Salina smiled gently to the girl.

Megan's expression turned into a frown. "I don't want pork… I want ham." She insisted quietly.

"Ham is made from pork, Megan. We don't eat it." Salina persisted, her tone still soft.

"You may eat what is set before you as your father instructed before he left this morning."

Megan dropped her fork to the table with a loud clatter and glared defiantly. "I don't want it. Fix me something else." She pouted and paused before adding the last word. "Please."

The dark haired woman laid her knife on the table and turned to face Megan, her smile disappearing. "Megan, it is fine if you don't like it. But until Mr. Kurama returns from the market with more groceries, this is all we have."

It was at that point that Amala spoke up. "I don't like it either, Mama. It tastes funny."

Salina sighed heavily and turned her gaze to her own daughter. "Amala, the same rules apply to you."

"I don't care!" Amala's face twisted as she whined.

"Amala Rachel! You know better than to speak to me in such a manner. One more word and you will go to your room for the rest of the afternoon. Alone. Is that clear?"

The child nodded sullenly and picked up her fork. Salina returned her gaze to Megan. "The same goes for you, Megan. You will eat what is given to you."

She stared at Salina steadily as she reached for her fork. Salina breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to her food preparations. There was silence for a moment before something wet hit her on the side of the face. She reached up and touched her cheek, pulling her hand away to find it sticky with mashed potatoes. She silently placed the knife on the cutting board once again and turned to regard the two children. "All right. Which one of you was it?"

Two guilty faces stared at her unspeaking. Salina arched a brow, giving it a few seconds longer. "Amala? Did you throw that?"

Amala shook her head. Salina shifted her gaze to Megan. Master Trowa's daughter mimicked her arched brow. "Megan? Did you throw the potatoes?"

"No ma'am, I didn't."

Salina's brow furrowed as she struggled to retain her patience. "Someone threw the potatoes at me. One of you crossed the line by throwing the potatoes. Then worsened it for yourself by lying. The other is lying by omitting the truth which is even worse than throwing the food in the first place. Now tell me who it was or I will inform your fathers and let them handle you. I scarcely believe that either one of them will take lightly the manner in which you would treat an adult."

Megan's face twisted in rage as she blurted out. "But that's not fair! You can't punish both of us. Babu won't let you punish me."

Salina fought back a smirk. There was the guilty party right there. Megan hadn't had a nap yet and was more than likely tired, but she possessed an innate moral code that wouldn't allow her to get her friend into undue trouble. "Megan, your Papa and your Babu both trust me with your well being and that extends to punishment for lying as well as being disrespectful. Now you will eat your food and then go for a nap. I will inform your fathers when they return home. I'll hear no more of it."

The Arabic woman reached for a towel and wiped her face clean, watching as Megan's eyes dropped back to her plate. She began to shovel her food into her mouth methodically, taking no time to taste it. Ten minutes later Megan pushed her plate away. "I'm finished. May I go play?"

"No. Little girls who misbehave get sent to their rooms and you need a nap anyway. Go upstairs and get in the bed. I'll be up shortly to tuck you in."

"I don't want a nap! I'm not a baby and I'm not tired!" Megan banged a tiny fist on the table. Salina glanced to her own daughter. "Amala, go to bed. I'll wake you in an hour."

"Yes, Mama." Amala slid from her seat, abandoning her now empty plate and climbed the stairs to their quarters.

Salina covered the distance to the table in a few strides and knelt in front of Megan, setting her face into a firm expression and purposefully keeping her voice low. "Megan, it is time for you to take a nap. You may play after you wake up but for now you need to rest."

"NO!" The little girl launched herself at Salina in a flurry of flying arms and legs.

"You're not my mommy and you can't tell me what to do! I want my mommy!"

The woman caught Megan smoothly as she flew out of the chair. She wrapped her arms round the tiny body. "Megan, try to calm down."

"No! I want my Mama. I don't want you. I want Mama. Let me go." The small girl within Salina's grasp suddenly dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs. She began sobbing inconsolably, great hiccupping sobs shaking her entire frame. "I want Mama."

Salina rose with the girl, cradling her tightly to her chest and rocking her gently as she slid into a chair. "Little Heart, I'm sorry. I know that it hurts. Shh… Aunt Salina's here, baby. You just go ahead and cry." The woman's heart ached for the child, yet at the same time she knew that it shouldn't be her, but the girl's father who was holding her at a time like this.

Trowa entered the house, frowning as he went. Breakfast had not gone well and had stretched into a 5 hour long ordeal, mostly consisting of Wufei making snide remarks about his honor and Heero glaring in judgment. Duo had been entirely too vocal as well. He heard the screams of a child from the back of the house as he entered. Vaguely he wondered what Amala would throw a tantrum about. Until he heard the screams form words. "I want Mama ! Let me go!"

Panic overtook him. His heart froze as he realized it was Megan's voice. Before a thought could form he broke into a run, racing for the source of the sound. He skidded to a halt in the kitchen, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of Megan wrapped tightly in Salina's arms. The woman made no move to acknowledge him as she usually did. She murmured unheard words into the girls ears as Megan began to tremble and wail. Trowa stepped closer. Salina rose from the chair and moved towards him. Reflexively he extended his arms to accept his daughter. She gave a frightened cry. "NO! Mama!"

"Shh, little heart, your Papa is here. He will make everything better." Trowa's panic soared. How was he supposed to make everything better when he didn't even know why she was crying? He couldn't even stop Catherine from crying and she was a grown woman fully capable of articulating what was wrong!

The solid weight of Megan settled into his arms. Her legs curled around his waist as she hooked her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck, the sobs growing in volume. The sheer force of her trembling scared him. Wildly his eyes flickered to Salina. "Should I call a doctor?"

Salina shook her head. "Just hold her. She'll be all right. She's missing her mother. I put a rocking chair in her room this morning. Use that."

Trowa swallowed hard and nodded. He retreated to the stairs, moving carefully in awareness of his burden. Not a moment too soon he dropped into the rocker and set it into motion. Megan shifted to curl into his arms, molding her frame to his. He tightened his grip as he searched for words. What did one say to a heart broken child anyway? Unbidden memories rose to his mind. What had he missed in not having a mother or a father? When he'd met Midii Une, his heart had hurt to know she'd betrayed him. He'd wished acutely for someone to make it feel better, but there was no one.

Megan's sobs brought him back to the present. A few stray curls had fallen free of her braid. He brushed the hair back from her face. The motion seemed to spark something in her. She buried her face further into his chest and drew in a heavy breath. He tried the stroking motion again on the back of her head. Okay, this was a definite start. Progress. He patted her back gently, careful of the pressure of his casted arm on her small frame. Only after she'd calmed a little did he speak. "I'm sorry you hurt, Megan."

She began sobbing again. His heart sank. Okay, progress undone. Her hands fisted in his t-shirt as she hiccupped violently. He lowered his head to drop a kiss to the top of her head. "It's okay, little bit." The action seemed to help. He set his hands into motion again, smoothing down the hair the haloed out from the top of her head. "I promise everything will be better soon." The sound of his voice appeared to be as soothing as the movement of the stroking and the motion of the rocking. "You're not alone. Papa's got you, Baby."

He murmured nonsensical words into her hair for a few more minutes before he realized that her hair was wet. He lifted his hand and scrubbed at his eyes. Amazing. Not only did his heart hurt because she cried, but he'd cried with her. What did it mean? He continued rocking, mulling over this strange occurrence. He only ever cried when Quatre was injured, or the time Catherine had been in the car accident. She hadn't been injured badly, but it had scared him. That what it was. He was afraid, but not for himself. He was scared for Megan.

Trowa realized then that Megan's sobs had ceased. He glanced down in sudden fear. Was she okay? He tipped her head back and sighed in relief to find that her eyes were closed and her breathing even. She had fallen asleep. He remained in the chair, rocking, for a few more minutes before rising carefully from the chair and moving to deposit her on the bed. He pulled the lightweight blanket from the bottom and covered her with it. He stood awkwardly for a moment before smoothing her brow with his hand. He retreated from the room and made his way towards his room. He had some serious thinking to do.

Duo knocked lightly on Quatre's office door. He received a muffled reply. "Come in."

He let himself into the large corner office and grinned at his friend in greeting. Quatre waved back then motioned for him to take a seat. One hand covered the receiver of the phone as he whispered. "I'll only be a moment. Help yourself to coffee." Duo detoured to the coffee pot and poured himself a large mug of the potent brew.

Quatre's voice was firm. "Minister Spalding, I've made my position quite clear. I will pursue legal action if need be, but I would prefer that the situation not escalate that far. Now, if you will excuse me, my 2 o'clock meeting is about to begin and I can't keep my investors waiting."

There was considerable squawking from the other end of the phone. Duo suppressed a snort of laughter. Quatre scowled at him briefly and then spoke once more. "Have the documents on my desk no later than the end of the week and perhaps I will consider the matter further. Until then, I bid you good day." The phone was placed on the cradle with no small amount of force. The blond man pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Duo, what brings you by?"

"I was hoping I might persuade you to take a walk with me. There's a café on the corner that just opened. I hear they make a mean cup of java."

Quatre glanced to the pile of work on his desk. He spoke wearily. "I'm absolutely swamped here. Can I take a rain check?"

Duo took in the organized disarray and shook his head. "No. This is important." His voice was soft. "I didn't come here to chat."

Sensing the seriousness in Duo's tone, Quatre resolutely snapped the lid of his laptop shut and rose from his chair. He rebut toned the collar of his shirt and straightened his tie. After adjusting the shoulder holster he wore, he slipped on the his jacket. "Lead the way."

The two men exited the office in silence, neither speaking until the were seated in the café. Quatre signaled for the waitress and placed an order for two straight double espressos. The young woman whistled lightly and arched a brow in question. "You sure you want that much caffeine, Mister? You do know that there's more caffeine in one shot of that stuff than in an entire pot of regular brew, right?"

Duo glanced at the nametag on the petite woman's apron. "Miss…Mint?" He furrowed his brow in disbelief. "Your parents actually named you Mint?"

The young woman gave a friendly laugh. "It's a nickname. My full name is a tongue twister."

Quatre watched helplessly as his friend displayed his usual alacrity for being easily distracted.

Duo grinned cheekily. "Try me."

Mint smirked. "My real name is Peppermint Patricia Pettigrew-Parker-Maxwell."

Duo's eyes grew round. "That's… okay, you were right. It's a mouthful… Peppermint Patty, eh?"

"Yup. Anyway about those drinks?" Mint tapped her pen to her order pad, skillfully steering the conversation back on track. "Would you rather try our unleaded version for those doubles?"

Duo grinned. "I'd prefer leaded, thanks though."

Quatre nodded in agreement. "Regular is fine, thank you."

"Coming right up." Mint turned and flounced back inside the café, leaving them at their sidewalk table.

Duo snickered. "Interesting character."

Quatre glanced through the window to where the you woman was dutifully setting to work on their drinks. He shrugged lightly. "I suppose. So what did you want to see me about?"

Amethyst eyes grew serious. "I stopped by your place this morning. Imagine my shock and awe when I saw a very small person that looked a lot like Trowa. The imagine the degrees by which my shock and awe grew when this very small person called him 'Papa'."

The Arabian man's brow smoothed in understanding. "You met Megan then, I take it."

"Yeah. Cute kid."

Quatre nodded in agreement. "She is cute. She's also very sweet."

"Yeah. She seems to be. She's what, six?"

Another nod. "Cut the crap, Duo. Get to the point."

The braided man straightened and leaned forward, pinning Quatre with his gaze. "My point is, that you can not let Trowa throw this child away. It would be the biggest mistake of his life and he would regret it forever."

Mint cursed at the espresso machine as it spewed scalding water at her for the 3rd time in less than an hour. "Dammit! Frankie, I thought you fixed this machine!"

"I have to replace the hose, and I can't do that until Katy gets back from the hardware store. I put a sign on it!" The irritated voice came from the workroom in the back of the café.

Mint stood on tiptoe to glare at the top of the machine. "Frankie!" Her tone was rueful. "A stamp sized post-it note stuck on top of the machine does not a sign make."

"Just use the other machine." Frankie's voice was more muffled, presumably from the dough machine being turned on. Mint sighed heavily and moved to the other espresso machine, her gaze flickering outward to the pair of men that sat at one of the sidewalk table engaged in serious conversation.

The braided one was hot. There was no two ways about it. And he'd been friendly, strange purple eyes sparkling in mischievousness when he'd spoken. The quiet blond was just as good looking, though he'd sounded slightly fatigued when he'd placed their order. The young woman sighed. Why couldn't she find a guy like that? A nice, normal, straight guy. Was it really so much to ask?

Quatre sighed again. "Duo, it's not that simple. And please don't imply that I would exert that kind of control over my husband."

"That's not what I mean and you know it, you grump." Duo's frown deepened. "I know you have this thing about not pushing Trowa in a direction he doesn't want to go, but this is a very serious matter."

"I know that. And that's exactly why I am not going to try to sway him. Whether or not he keeps Megan is a decision that only he can make. I'm not happy about having to take a back seat to this matter."

"Well then don't take a back seat. Quatre, you and Trowa have talked about kids. This is your chance to have one that is related to at least one of your by blood. He doesn't have anyone except Catherine and the four of us. He doesn't know what a real family is like beyond the sphere of our little group."

"Our little group is more than a lot of people have, Duo." Quatre spoke more sharply than he meant to. He fell silent at the approach of their waitress, sparing her a tight smile as she deposited the drinks on the table. She seemed to sense the seriousness of their discussion and retreated back into the café without a word. He waited until she was gone to continue, his tone gentler. "I understand why you're so passionate about this. But be that as it may, I will not go back on a vow that I take very seriously even if it means losing a little girl I've already fallen in love with."

Duo sat back in his seat, spine rigid. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when Quatre held his hand up. "No, I'm not finished. Wait until I'm done." As though to make his point the blond man took a sip of his coffee in silence.

"Trowa is more than my husband, Duo. He's my match, my soul mate. He's stood by me and let me make my mistakes. Then he's helped me pick up the pieces and move on. And he's done it all without trying to influence my decisions. It's a promise we made to one another when we first began dating, it's served us well for the last 5 years and it will continue to do so for a long time to come. I have an opinion on the matter. One that I will not share with anyone other than him until the time comes. But know this, my friend. I will not be swayed by the pleadings of anyone, be it you whom I love as a brother or Trowa who I would lay my life down for without blinking."

Duo remained quiet. The ferocity left Quatre's voice as he continued. "Duo, I love Trowa. And I love you, all of you. But please don't ask me to do something that you know goes against the very essence of who I am."

There was a moment of tense silence before Duo spoke. "Are you finished?"

Quatre nodded and reached for his mug of espresso. "Yes."

Duo set his now empty cup down and pushed it aside. He released a heavy-hearted sigh. "You're right and I'm sorry. I just can't help it, Quat. I don't want Trowa to have to live the rest of his life knowing what he's given up."

The blond sipped calmly. "I understand that. But Duo, you have to remember that he hasn't made a decision yet. When he does, I promise you'll know immediately. And when that happens. He's going to need you there to help him with whatever he has to go through. Be it Megan's dealing with the trauma of losing her mother and her adolescence or Trowa signing papers to turn custody of her over to someone else. Neither choice is an easy path, but it is his to walk… it is our job to make sure he doesn't have to go it alone and to back him up when he makes it. Do you understand?"

The American man cleared hi throat and nodded. "Yeah, Quat. I get it."

Quatre reached for the bill, but found his hand pushed away. His eyes landed on Duo, who shrugged ruefully. "Let me get it. It's the least I can do after riling you up and adding to your stress level today."

"Thanks." He hesitated a moment before rising from his seat. "And thank you also, for trying to understand."

Duo cocked his head to the side and grinned contritely, "It's what friends do, Quat. Argue and then get over it."

Quatre chuckled quietly, before being knocked aside by a running figure. He reached a hand out to steady himself. Another form tore past him. He vaguely recognized the green haired woman that yelled angrily as she gave chase to the retreating man. "THIEF!"

Packets of sugar pelted the sidewalk as she threw them after him, in an oh-so-well thought out plan of attack. The robber darted into the street. Quatre's eyes widened as he watched their waitress hurl herself blindly into oncoming traffic in her pursuit. Duo's frantic voice set him into motion. "TRUCK!"

He darted forward, sped on by adrenaline and was on her in a moment, using his momentum to push them across the narrow one-way street. He twisted his body roughly to soften the impact of the curb on the other side. The woman shrieked above him. A few yards away, he vaguely heard the sickening crunch of bone on concrete as Duo tackled the thief to the ground. Inwardly, Quatre winced, though whether is was from the knowledge that the would-be criminal had probably just been hurt in a bad way or the fact that the wind was gone from his body he did not know. He opened his eyes and groaned out loud. The woman's frame was deceptively small, yet their combined weight made it feel like a few ribs had been cracked on impact.

The woman scrambled off him, wide-eyed. She swung her head to stare in bewilderment at the Mack truck the screeched to a halt a few feet away. The driver rounded the front of the vehicle, cursing loudly. Quatre released another groan and let his head fall back to the concrete. So much for his good day.

Duo kicked the unconscious perpetrator for good measure and grinned darkly. "Do not fuck with Shinigami, Bitch." He unsnapped the leather pouch at his waist and grabbed the man by his broken arm, dragging him roughly across the sidewalk to cuff him to a parking meter. A crowd was rapidly gathering. He swiped at his mouth, not surprised to find his arm smeared with blood. His face had bounced off the man's head when he'd launched himself into a full tackle. The jackass hadn't stood a chance.

He snorted darkly and reached for his cell phone. He glanced behind himself as he hit the speed dial. Quatre lay half on the curb, half in the street, clutching his ribs. The waitress had a hand to her head, blood running freely from an obvious head wound.

"Preventers HQ, what is your emergency."

"This is Agent Maxwell, there's been an attempted robbery at…" He glanced to the block number. "the 1500 block of Markham Avenue. I've got a man down and civilian injury. Requesting EMT dispatch and back up for containment of the crime scene. The suspect is unconscious and restrained."

"Copy that, Agent Maxwell. Agents Chang and Yuy have responded to the call and will provide back up. Render assistance until back up arrives."

Duo disconnected the call and turned the address the growing crowd of onlookers. "Don't approach the jackass attached to the meter and above all, do NOT speak to him or come within 10 feet of him." He fished his badge from beneath his shirt where it was attached to a lanyard. "Stick around. We'll need statements from all of you."

With those words he sprinted back to where Quatre lay. The blond man was dazed. Duo knelt next to him and studied him for a moment before nodding. "Your ribs?"

Quatre nodded. "I broke a couple I think."

The braided man moved to the waitress, he gently lifted her bloodied hand away from her temple and lifted the edge of her apron, wiping some of the blood away to get a closer look. "It's just a scratch. I think you'll be okay. The paramedics will be here in a few minutes, just sit tight."

The girl blinked a few times, then focused her gaze on Quatre, who was pushing himself gingerly into a seated position. Hew eyes grew wide. "You saved my life."

Quatre grimaced, her words apparently unheard. Duo was not surprised to find himself pushed out of the way and caught himself easily with one hand. He watched at Peppermint Patricia Pettigrew-Parker-Maxwell crawled the short distance to Quatre and hugged him tightly. The blond man hissed in obvious pain but did not push her away. Cerulean eyes begged Duo in mute agony to please peel the woman off him. Duo chuckled and shook his head. Quatre whimpered loudly as he was squeezed even tighter. "Thank you."

When he groaned the woman released him, her eyes wide. "Oh God. I hurt you." She pushed herself away. "I'm sorry."

The blond's eyes fluttered closed for a moment while he evened out his breathing to regain control of himself. He opened his eyes once more and shook his head nonchalantly. "It's all right. I'm just glad you weren't hurt badly."

Mint's eyes flickered to Duo. "You got him?"

"Yeah. He's not going to cause anyone anymore trouble." Duo stated gently as he moved close to Quatre once more. He helped his friend sit upright and ran his hands lightly over the wounded area. "You'll be fine, Quat. We'll get you to the hospital and get your ribs taped. You'll be all right."


	9. And all I loved, I loved alone

A/N Special thanks to Cieraco for her faboo help with this chapter including the 3 hour cross-country phone marathon letting me read to her and hash out the details. Further thansk to TC-sama for being my faboo beta.

Disclaimer- Not mine, don't dues, got nothing. Turtle Schnoff

Small Packages

Chapter 9

Une frowned as she stared at the large house. It was larger than necessary for any two people, yet still small enough to be considered a family home and not an ostentatious mansion. Beside her Noin released a low whistle. "This is going to take a while."

Milliardo Peacecraft slipped his wife's hand into his own, squeezing lightly. "Don't be such a pessimist."

Noin snorted. "This from the man who tried to destroy the earth."

"I was merely attempting to restore balance in my own way, albeit a horrible way, but my own way none-the-less." He retorted affectionately.

Une cleared her throat and jingled out the keys she'd lifted from the evidence locker. "Let's get this over with."

She climbed the steps resolutely and inserted the key into the lock. The deadbolt gave way easily enough. The house's alarm system had never been reactivated after the premises had been searched. She stepped inside, looking around the eerily silent foyer. The thought that only a matter of days ago, the house had been a home flitted across her mind and sent chills down her spine. She truthfully had no idea what she was looking for. She should have come alone, the prospect of explaining to her two best agents that she was here for personal resolution did not sit well.

"So what are we looking for?" Milliardo spoke from where he was already rifling through the collection of mail that had been dropped through the slot in the door.

Une steeled her voice. "Anything that would connect Trowa Barton to the deceased."

"That's pretty obscure, Anne." Noin spoke thoughtfully as she wandered to a small table against the wall. The top held a vast collection of picture frames. The dark-haired woman was studying them intently. She reached out and lifted a small frame. "She had a neice… or maybe a daughter. There are a lot of pictures of the same little girl, from infancy until around the age of 5 or so."

Une swallowed hard. "I'll go upstairs and look for a safe. The home office was cleared out, but there were no personal documents, so there must be records around here somewhere." She paused on the first step of the marble staircase. "Look for journals, letters, anything of a personal nature. Medical records and documentation would be helpful as well."

She did not wiat for a response but mounted the stairs quickly. She'd briefly studied the blueprints obtained of the premises that Chang had procured in the event of having to take the woman by force. The study should be the third door… ah, there is was. The team who had secured the crime scene had taken only what could have been considered evidence, leaving behind personal effects for the family to sort through.

She tore the tape free of the door and stepped inside, taken aback by the disarray in which the room had been left. The presence of the dead woman seemed to linger in the air. Une scoffed mentally at the notion, chiding herself on her childishness. Her eyes landed on the antique mahogany desk, the chair pushed back and angled just so. As though someone had risen quickly. A mug of tea, containing a now moldy tea bag, sat half-empty on the left hand corner of the desk nearest the chair. She approached it and gingerly grasped the cup, moving it onto a stack of paper, noting with some strange sense of sadness that a ring had permanently marred the desk's surface.

A letter had been started, the pen tossed aside carelessly. She reached out and picked up the paper, her eyes scanning it critically. The letter was no more than three lines long and addressed to a Maria Velasquez. From the first few lines, it appeared to be a letter of dismissal from service to the family of some kind. Une replaced the letter carefully and shifted some of the other papers on the desk. Research from the internet on an experimental treatment for early stage pancreatic cancer. The date was almost 2 months prior. Une frowned. Had the dead woman hung on to the papers for some ray of hope? She stacked them together neatly to take with her, turning her attention to the drawers that stood open. They were all empty save for a few stray pencils and a calculator.

With a huff of annoyance at the fruitlessness of her search, she turned to study the walls carefully. There was nothing to indicate a hidden safe of any kind. She tapped her foot impatiently, then remembered her grandmother saying something when she was just a little girl. "Never hide the jewels under the mattress, that's the first place they'll look." At the time, Une hadn't thought anything of it. Now, she flew from the room, calling for Noin.

Her friend sprinted up the stairs. Une waved her down the hall. "Tell Milliardo to go to the kitchen and get a knife. A big one."

"Anne? What are you talking about? A knife?" Noin's eyes widened.

"Just do it, I'll explain later."

Lucrezia frowned in obvious confusion, but complied, returning a few seconds later. "He's doing it, now tell me what's going on!"

"The bed." Une threw open doors as she headed down the hallway. The master bedroom was at the farthest end from the study. The bed was unmade and another abandoned cup, this one of black coffee, sat on the bedside table. Clothing was strewn carelessly about the furnishings, painfully obvious signs of a life prematurely interrupted. Une swallowed hard and set her features into an expression of grim determination. "Help me strip the bed."

"What?" Noin's eyes narrowed fractionally. "No!"

"Lucy! I'm not asking. I know what I'm doing." Anne jerked back the duvet to fully reveal the pink silk sheets underneath. Reluctantly, Noin's hands snaked out, carefully pulling the sheet off the bed. Together they pulled back the feather bed to reveal the pillow top mattress.

"What on earth are you two doing?" Milliardo's disapproving voice came from the doorway where he stood, serrated bread knife in hand. "Haven't we violated her privacy enough?"

Une extended her hand and gestured for the knife. For a moment, her eyes glittered harshly, calling to mind the hardness she'd held as a Colonel in Oz. Her voice held no remorse. "She's dead. I sincerely doubt she cares about her privacy now." She stared at her friends, her voice softening significantly. "Listen. If I'm right, the answers we're looking for are in that bed."

"Why the bed?" Milliardo frowned. "I don't understand."

Understanding dawned in Noin's eyes. "I do." She spoke slowly. "Milliardo, give her the knife."

"What?" He held it protectively to his chest. "Lucy!"

Noin spun on heel and jerked the knife from his grasp by the long handle. "You're being a big baby, Zechs!"

"Don't call me that." He intoned reflexively. "Just tell me what you two are talking about? Is it a girl thing, because I don't understand."

Noin slid the knife across the bed to her friend and hefted the mattress. "Shut up and help me move this."

Obediently, her husband moved forward, lifting the mattress easily. "Where do you want it?"

"Flip it off the bed onto the floor." Une instructed. "There's an old saying, something that my grandmother used to tell me. 'don't hide the jewels under the mattress, that's the first place they'll look.'"

"Jewels? I thought we were looking for papers." Milliardo gave the mattress a great heave and sent it tumbling over the end of the bed to rest upside down on the floor.

"Nevermind, lover." Noin interrupted as she joined Une on the upturned mattress carefully inspecting the seams.

Une's heart race sped up as she tapped a spot near a corner with the knife. "Here. Right here. See the different coloring in the threads?" She stabbed the knife into the mattress at the spot. Milliardo's eyes widened as she sawed into the stuffing without so much as a backwards glance. "What the hell? ANNE! Have you lost your mind?"

"Shut up, Zechs!" The two women snapped in unison. Noin maneuvered herself to grip the mattress, giving Une the leverage she needed to cut.

"Don't call me that." He grumbled, ineffectually.

Noin lifted blazing eyes to him. "You could help, you know!"

He sighed heavily and knelt next to her, holding the corner down. "Watch where you put that thing, Une."

"I'm going to shove it up your…" She was interrupted by a dull metallic clang. Properly distracted, she cut faster. A moment later she set the knife aside and peeled back the patched area, pulling out the stuffing carefully. She gave a triumphant yelp of success as she pulled free an oblong metal box.

Milliardo released his edge of the mattress and sat back on his heels. "Don't hide the jewels under the mattress… so she hid them IN the mattress. Clever. That's very clever."

Une lifted her eyes to the wall. "Milliardo, look on the back of that painting, there should be a key taped to it."

"A key?"

"Yes. That painting is called 'the key to my heart'. It's by Octavio Nimholder." She explained shortly.

This time he did as he was told with only a shake of his head. "I'll never understand the logic of a woman."

"Thank God for that." Noin chuckled.

The two women watched as the blond man lifted the painting free of it's nail carefully. A moment later he gave a shocked whisper of "Holy shit." He held up a key that had apparently been scotch taped to the back of the canvas. He returned the painting to it's rightful place and tossed the key to his boss.

Une turned the box around and unlocked the box. She settled herself more comfortably atop the mutilated mattress and opened the lid. Tucked inside were several file folders and labeled vid discs. She reached for the first disc and read the label aloud. "For Megan's 6th birthday."

She flipped through the discs, reading a few more of the labels aloud. "Megan's 16th birthday. Megan's first date. For Megan's high school graduation. For Megan's wedding day." She chuckled lightly. "Where babies come from. Why Papa left us." Her laughter subsided.

Noin spoke up. "Megan was the name that I found on the back of the photographs downstairs. Do you suppose she's the daughter?"

Une nodded. "It would make sense."

"Then these must be…" Noin trailed off.

Anne gently set the discs aside. "They're videos for the child while she's growing up, to help her with life's problems as only a mother can."

She reached for the file folders. They were labeled clearly. Bank records, Medical records, financial statements for stocks, wills, and business related correspondence, combinations for locks and safety deposit box keys taped to the inside of one. She set these aside too, to go through later. Lining the bottom of the box were several jewel cases with the name 'Megan Noelle Hanahan' clearly labeled on their lids. She removed these and set them aside. Once the cases were removed, a ribboned bundle slid forward. On top was an old leather journal, on the bottom a thin sheaf of letters. Une untied the ribbon and opened the journal to a page at random, reading aloud. "September 16, AC 195. The most peculiar boys joined our class at school today. There were three of them, each as different from the next as could be and yet still the same in a strange way. David Maxton is a charmer with an incessant mouth and a beautiful smile. Quinn Robert Winston, a blond-haired and blue eyed devil with an angel's face. He is soft-spoken, polite and yet retains an air of steely determination. I should not wish to cross him on a bad day. And finally there is Thomas Baron, and I do believe dear journal, that I have fallen in love. He is the most noble and handsome creature I have ever set my sights on. Eyes of the deepest emerald that glitter with every emotion he feels."

Here Une's voice cracked slightly. "His expression never changes, but those eyes betray everything. I embarrassed him today when I cornered him in the lunch room and insisted he and his friends sit at my table. I think he wasn't sure how to respond. But I do know that though he did not speak as he stared at me before walking away, that his eyes were screaming at me, accusing me in silent consternation of invading his space. I apologized, and I do hope that someday he and his friends will sit with us. I should very much enjoy getting to know his eyes better."

She cleared her throat and glanced to Noin, who reached out and took the journal from her. "You think it's Trowa?"

"I don't know. Barton didn't talk a lot during the war, but I didn't really take the time to look him dead in the eyes. I was busy trying to rule the world, remember?"

Noin flipped over a few pages and began to read. "October 6th, AC 195. He spoke to me today, journal. His voice was like liquid fire rocketing straight to my belly. Of course he only spoke two words. "Thank you." I'd passed him the salt at breakfast. I at least know now that Thomas Baron like salt and Worcestshire sauce on his scrambled eggs. Good lord, I'm starting to sound like Relena Peacecraft the way she goes on about that Howie boy. I'd better curb this. She has no chance in hell, he's as gay as his friend David. Perhaps Thomas is as well. I suppose being his friend will have to be enough. I'll pass him the salt next time, before he reaches for it."

The blue-haired woman paused, glancing to her husband. "She knew Relena."

Milliardo nodded. "I'll ask Relena when I see her next. She should be able to shed some light on the entries. Find something from after the war."

Noin dutifully flipped through the pages, towards the back of the journal. "March 16, AC 197. I saw Thomas Baron again today. He seems to have changed somehow in the intervening time since we were at school together. We never did become as good friends as I had hoped for. He was so solitary, keeping to his small group of friends. It was odd, as though he never realized how popular he was. I suppose in no small part, Relena had something to do with it, the way she tagged after Howie Young. It chills me to think of the unhealthy level of obsession she expresses, even to this day. I found out after the second war was over that I had been mistaken in their names."

"I do not know the names of the other boys, only two of them. Quinn is in actuality the Winner boy who was presumed missing throughout the course of the war. Thomas's real name is Trowa Barton, yet there was a gleam of sadness in his eyes as he introduced himself to me this afternoon. His face has become more expressive, but his eyes still tell all. He is sad. I have decided to make it my mission to make Trowa Barton smile, and to erase the loneliness that is so prominent in those emerald depths. I must go, I have bullied him into taking me to dinner tonight."

Noin choked back something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Her husband reached out and gently extracted the journal from her shaking hands. Without being prodded, he turned to the last page and began reading aloud. His voice was strong and deep, yet held a tone of sadness. "July 6, AC 197. For the past five months, I have neglected you my dearest journal, in favor of Trowa. I'm very sorry for this, but you haven't any feelings to hurt so I guess it's okay. Dinner turned into an entire night of talking, which turned into several dates, which ended up with where I am now. I've had my first love affair, and I suppose it will also be my last. I'm barely 17 years old and it would seem I am doomed to a life of being single and alone. Alone except for my child that is. Yes, you read that correctly. I went to the doctor just this morning. He confirmed what I have suspected for several weeks now. I am 8 weeks pregnant. Papa is very disappointed, yet I can tell that he is trying to accept this news gracefully."

"I don't know yet what to say to Trowa. He's barely older than me, and I feel as though this predicament will be the end of something before it can even really begin. Perhaps I have made a foolish mistake, but something happened when the doctor told me the news. I could swear that I felt something welling up inside me. I can't exactly describe it. I am joyful, grateful, and terrified and a million other things all at the same time. I love this child already, when it's barely the size of my fingertip. I also love Trowa. But he doesn't love me. I don't think he ever will, not the way he loves someone else. He doesn't even realize it yet, but I have loved him so long that I can recognize the symptoms in him as readily as within myself."

Milliardo blushed lightly and raised his eyes. "It gets rather personal."

"Go on." Une urged softly, enraptured by the words.

"She's talking about Quatre." Lucrezia interjected softly, to no one in particular.

The blond man swallowed hard and continued reading. "I can feel it when we're together, Trowa and I. It's almost as though we're both reaching and seeking some tangible evidence of something that eludes us both. I can feel his heart beating against his chest and I know that it is not for me. It pains me and makes me feel greedy and selfish and all the things I have seen in other people that I swore I would never embrace. Yet to hold him for a precious little while makes the pain of his inevitable departure bearable for at least a few moments. So I will take my selfishness and revel in it, in the knowledge that I now possess some small piece of him that I will never lose. I'm going to end this journal here and put it away. It is a piece of the childhood that I left behind that first night when I kissed his cheek as he left me at my door. I am to be a mother. I can not be a child and care for a child." He flipped through the last few pages. "The rest are blank.

He closed the journal and passed it back to Une. She accepted it and carefully settled it atop the stack of items from the box. "Should we read the letters?" Noin asked softly.

Une stared at the letters she still held in her lap without fully seeing. She did not answer. Noin leaned over and reached for the letters. Une covered her hand gently and shook her head. "No. Lucy, you were both right. We've crossed the line." She bit her lower lip in an uncharacteristic display of hesitation. "We should clean up this mess. I'll take these things over to Barton's home myself. I owe him an apology."

"Apology? For what?" Lucrezia wondered, her voice curious.

Une lifted her eyes to her second in command. "Don't worry about it. Just, please help me clean up."

Trowa cursed softly as he tugged at the knots in Megan's shoes. Somehow his neat double bow had mutated into a tangle. She giggled as she squirmed in his lap. He squeezed her gently. "Be still, Megan."

She grumbled good-naturedly, but complied as he awkwardly attempted to disengage the knot with only one good hand. "Papa?"

"What?" He responded absently.

"Do you love Babu?" She queried while fiddling with his bangs.

He frowned. What kind of question was that? His child appeared to have the attention span of a gnat. "Yes, Megan. I love Babu very much."

"Did you love Mama?" Megan's tone was innocent, the question posed in the same manner as the last 10 in her seemingly endless stream of chatter. Trowa's frown deepened incrementally.

"Megan, can we talk about this later?"

She stopped poking at his hair. "I want to know. Papa, please?"

He hesitated and stopped struggling with the knot. He spoke slowly, searching for the right words. "Your Mama and I didn't know each other very well and we… were really young."

"What does that mean?" Megan's frown matched his own.

Trowa sighed. "You mother was a very good woman. She was sweet and gentle and kind." He paused, conscious of Megan's big grey eyes on his face. "I cared about your mother very much." He shifted slightly, reaching into his pocket with his good hand and drawing out his pocket knife. "Don't move, I have to cut your shoelaces."

"Papa?" She remained as still as a church mouse.

He flipped the knife open and cleanly sliced through the laces of first one shoe and then the other. "What?"

"Do you love me?"

His hands shook for the briefest of seconds as he closed the knife. He had not considered this question. "Trowa?" Lord bless Quatre's impeccable sense of timing. Trowa's eyes sought out his husband's as he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. Megan shot out of his arms and flew towards Quatre. She flung her arms around his knees. "Babu! You're home! We waited for you!"

Trowa watched mutely as Quatre winced slightly from the force of the enthusiastic greeting. "Quatre? Are you all right?"

The blond raised his eyes and nodded. "We'll talk later, in private." He took Megan by the hand and led her to the couch. Quatre moved stiffly, obviously in pain. His favorite lavender dress shirt was ripped at the shoulder and missing the top two buttons. Quatre's appearance was never anything less than pristine. Something had happened. Trowa flinched in sympathy as his husband gingerly lowered himself onto the couch. Megan made a move to climb up into his lap. Trowa reached out to stop her. Quatre held up a hand. "No, it's okay. Come on up, Megan, and sit beside me. But please be careful. I had an accident today and it hurts a little if I move the wrong way."

Megan carefully crawled onto the couch and sat next to Quatre. She puffed out her bottom lip. "Babu, you have an owie?"

"Oh yes, Megs. A very big owie." Quatre chuckled lightly. "But I went to the doctor and I'm fine now."

"Oh. That's good. I don't want you to have an owie." The small girl rose up on her knees next to Quatre.

Cerulean eyes rested on Megan for a moment. "Did you have a fun day today?"

The child shook her head promptly. "No. Miss Salina was mean to me and I cried cause my heart hurt. But then Papa came and made it all better."

Those perceptive eyes immediately landed on Trowa, who shook his head and mouthed 'later' to him. Quatre nodded slightly. "How was Miss Salina mean?"

"She wouldn't let me have a ham sandwich and she said she was gonna make me go to my room and that she was gonna tell on me."

"What would she have to tell, Megan?" Quatre prodded. "Maybe you should tell me what happened."

Megan cast her eyes to Trowa who merely arched a brow. She huffed quietly. "She wouldn't let me have a ham sandwich and so I threw potatoes at her. She said I lied and that I was dis'pectable to her and that was bad. So I said that you and Papa wouldn't let her be mean to me and she said you would and then she made Amala go to bed and I wanted to play and she said no." Megan's rambling was not easily understood." Quatre frowned for a moment before understanding dawned on him.

"You threw your food at Salina?" He spoke in a purposefully gentle tone. "And you lied about it. And then you were rude to her?"

Megan grew quiet. Her bottom lip quivered. "Yes, Sir."

"And then she wanted you to take a nap and you threw a fit." Quatre continued, for clarification.

The little girl shrank back and nodded.

"Did you apologize to Miss Salina?" Quatre frowned at her.

She glanced at Trowa who shook his head. "Don't look at me, young lady. I told you that Babu and I would both deal with this."

"Papa made me say 'sorry' and made me sit in the corner for a long time and wouldn't let me play with Amala all afternoon." She pouted prettily.

Trowa suppressed a groan. He'd been too harsh. Judging from Quatre's expression, he should have handled the situation differently. His husband's next words were softly spoken. "Megan, Miss Salina is a part of this family and she's your elder. We are not disrespectful to our family. How would you like it if Papa threw potatoes at you?"

Megan digested this new information. "I dunno."

"Yes, you do know." Quatre persisted.

Trowa watched as his mate skillfully handled the problem, far more tactfully than he'd stumbled his way through it. Megan squirmed uncomfortably. "I'd be mad."

"Yes, you would. In the future you will respect Miss Salina as well as all your family and elders. Do you understand?"

The taller man's fascination mounted when Megan's pout disappeared. She sighed heavily. "Yes, Babu."

"Good girl." Quatre pressed a kiss to her forehead. "No go in the kitchen with Miss Salina until dinner. I need to talk to your Papa."

Trowa lowered his gaze as Megan scrambled off the couch and darted out of the door. He waited until the door closed softly behind her. He hardly knew where to begin. He leaned forward and laced his fingers together. Quatre waited patiently for him to speak. At last he began. "She was crying for her mother. I didn't know what to do."

He paused for a few moments, fidgeting with his thumbs. "I rocked her and she fell asleep. But I was so scared. I don't know if I can do this, Quatre. Just before you walked in, she asked me if I love her. I had no idea what to say."

"I heard." Quatre answered gently. "Trowa. I know this is a lot to deal with. But you have to put her first, before you try to deal with your own issues. You handled things fine today. I'm proud of you."

Trowa breathed a sighed of relief. Four words, four small words that made all the difference. He lifted his eyes and gave a small smile. "So what happened to you?"

"It's a long story." Quatre eased himself up off the couch. "I'll tell you if you'll wash my hair while we shower."

"Deal." Trowa moved from his seat to help his lover.

Quatre laced an arm around his shoulder, leaning on him for support. "You know, Trowa… I think you'd be good at this fatherhood thing."

Trowa chuckled lightly. "I think it's an acquired skill."


	10. Edgar Allen Poe

A/N- The story is actually finished, I just have to put the finishing touches on the last chapter. And yes, I've already started a sequel. How sad am I?

Disclaimer- Not mine, don't sue, got nothing.

Small Packages

Chapter 10

Une tensed as she stood in the formal sitting room just off the main hall of the Barton-Winner residence. The room was richly furnished in antique mahogany furnishings, peach silks and brocades making it comfortable despite the obvious lack of use it received. She glanced to the lock box on the table and slipped her hand into the pocket of the corduroy skirt she wore on her rare day off from the office. She felt just slightly out of place in the room dressed down as she was. Sternly she reminded herself why she was here.

Her fingers traced the key to the box as she waited nervously for Trowa Barton to make his appearance. The woman who'd let her in had informed her that he was indisposed but would be in shortly. That had been nearly half an hour ago. She'd been served coffee from antique silver service older than her family name. She'd finished 3 cups and then resigned herself to pacing the spacious room as she waited for Barton to appear. Her pumps clicked on the marble floor with each step, giving voice to her agitated state.

The pocket door slid open and she spun to face the newcomer. Barton stepped inside, obviously fresh from the shower. She felt her breath catch as she observed the young man anew. She could tell why Quatre Winner had fallen in love with him in that instant. He was dressed in a pair of loose fitting khakis and a well-loved t-shirt bearing the Preventers logo. His hair was still damp and brushed from his face revealing the faint features that belied his European ancestry. Those emerald eyes flickered warily. "Lady Une."

"Mr. Barton." She inclined her head slightly in a nod of acknowledgement. She gestured to his injured arm and asked softly. "How are you doing?"

He shrugged lightly. "I've had worse."

"Yes, I suppose you have." She trailed off into awkward silence.

He stared at her in that unnerving way of his, waiting patiently until she spoke again. "I suppose I'll just get right to it then."

"You probably should." He moved to seat himself in one of the Louis chairs.

She flexed her fingers around the key in her pocket before withdrawing it and extending it to him. He eyed it doubtfully, making no moved to take it. "What's this?"

Anne nodded to the box. "It's something that rightfully belongs to you." She paused for a moment. "And to your daughter."

Trowa blinked in obvious surprise before indifference settled over his features once more. "How do you know about that?"

Anne lowered her eyes. "Mind if I sit down?"

He tilted his head in the direction of the chair across from him. She angled it towards him before taking a seat. "This is a difficult moment for me Mr. Barton. So if you'll please just bear with me."

"Of course." His tone did not waver.

"Needless to say I'm not here in my official capacity. So please try to understand why I did what I'm about to tell you." She deposited the key on top of the strongbox and threaded her hands together to keep herself from fidgeting. "Trowa, I owe you an apology. More than one actually. Concerning the forced leave of absence, I overstepped myself and attempted to invade your personal life. If I had known then what I know now…"

Anne trailed into silence for a moment, then cleared her throat. "Anyway, I tried to force you to face something I thought was a problem. In fact I saw myself in you at that moment and it scared me."

Trowa frowned. "I don't understand."

"When Mr. Treize died, I found myself without a cause for the first time in my life. And I didn't want anyone to know the depth of our relationship. Please don't misunderstand. It wasn't in anyway sexual." She snorted in self-deprecation. "I thought that if I was perfect enough as a glorified sidekick, perhaps he would return my feelings. But that never happened. However, he did understand me in a way no one else ever has, before of since. Starting the Preventers gave me an outlet that I hadn't had before. I had something to fight for again. Only now, it wasn't Mr. Treize's ideals I was pursuing, but that of the people. His ideals were always peaceful, he understood however, that peace is not the same a freedom. You pilots, you weren't fighting for peace. You were fighting for freedom."

She paused for a moment. "Working for freedom through peace has become my goal. One of my own, not his. Trowa, I've seen you blossom over the last six years, from a scared little boy who was capable of murder to a brilliant young man full of promise who is capable of not only living his own life knowing what he wants, but who has the courage to pursue that. When I saw you becoming what you once were, it scared me. I thought that by forcing you to face it, maybe I could get back the Trowa Barton who I admire and respect so much more than you'll ever know. But I see now, that in doing so, I myself reverted to the way I was once. Ruling by force and lacking in any ounce of compassion. I'm sorry."

She raised her eyes from where they were focused on her perfectly manicured thumbs that had somehow begun doing a strange little dance to rest on Trowa once again. She swallowed hard. "Do you understand now?"

"I… think so." He hesitated.

"Good. As for my second transgression, that's the real reason I'm here. The first realization was merely a by-product of the second."

"You sound like Wufei." He pronounced calmly.

Anne laughed softly. "I suppose I could give him lessons. Anyway. The key goes to this box." She freed a hand of tapped the metal surface. "A few days after our… exchange of words I went to the suspects home. I used the key we had in the evidence locker to let myself in. I'm not proud of it, but I wanted answers and I was willing to go to any length to get them. I found this box and the key and opened it. Which I also shouldn't have done. I wanted to bring it by and apologize in to you in person. The box contains some very personal effects of the… Miss Hanahan's."

"Personal effects… you went through it?" His brows knit together. "Why would you violate her privacy like that?"

"Trowa, please… just bear with me. That's why I explained what I just finished with. I got the answers I wanted, yes… but I do realize it was a horrible invasion of her privacy and yours. I was looking for a connection between her and yourself. When I found it, I wanted to know everything. I'm sorry. If you're angry, I understand and you have every right to be. I was trying to help, misguided though my attempt."

Trowa's face relaxed. Anne's stomach unclenched a little as he spoke. "I understand."

"Thank you for not being angry." Relief flooded through her.

Emerald orbs flashed at her, raw emotion obvious in them. "I didn't say I wasn't angry. I said I understood. There's a distinct difference between the two, Lady Une. Don't think that just because you've apologized means you're forgiven." With catlike grace he rose from his seat, his back ramrod straight for a moment before he sighed, eyes focusing on the small display of frame photos on the table.

She followed his gaze as it searched out a picture of him and Quatre dressed to the nines on the day of their wedding. When he spoke again his voice was soft, carrying in it a deep-seated ache. "I owe you an apology to. Quatre pointed out the foolishness of my actions the day I quit. I think that perhaps we should both forgive and forget." He moved his eyes to her once more. "I'm sorry."

The words came without ceremony, his usual understated manner. Une leaned back into the chair and exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Thank you, Trowa."

He gave a slight nod. She spoke again. "You know you can come back any time. I never processed your resignation."

Trowa appeared startled for a brief moment. "But I don't want to come back." He smiled vaguely. "It's nothing personal, Une. I just have to take care of some things. Personal things."

"I see. A leave of absence then, completely voluntary of course. I can put it through as paternity leave. Six months with full-pay."

He shook his head. "No, you don't understand. I'm still resigning."

She frowned. "But… you need a job."

Trowa snorted, then chuckled in amusement. "You forget who I'm married to, Lady Une." He sobered and then shook his head once more. "I'm going to pursue a different career path."

"Oh." Une blushed slightly. "What, if I may ask."

Trowa flushed brilliantly in tandem. "JZ Winner works as an editor for a small publishing house. She saw some of my work and expressed an interest in it, should I ever want to pursue it beyond dabbling as a hobby."

"Writing?" Now there was an idea that had never occurred to her. "I wasn't aware Quatre had a sister named JZ. I thought I'd met them all."

Trowa's smile grew downright devilish. "Yes, I'd imagine you wouldn't know her by that name. She prefers it to her full name."

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"JZ is short for Jezebel." He chuckled again. "I thought I might give it a try. The writing thing."

Une looked at him. It was like seeing him in a whole different light. She nodded minutely. "Well I hope it goes well. When you get published, I'm going to want to have my own signed copy."

"Let me finish something first." Trowa's demeanor was genuinely relaxed for the first time since he'd entered the room. "Thank you, for coming by. I appreciate the gesture and the thought. If you'll excuse me, I'm taking Megan for lunch. Some pizza place with games she's been seeing commercials for on TV. I've promised her Canadian Bacon." He reached for the box and key. "I think she deserves a little pork now and then, even if Quatre won't approve."

Une rose from her seat and extended her hand to him. "I'll be seeing you, Trowa. Maybe someday I can meet your daughter."

He smiled again, significant, yet small. "Maybe. If she stays, maybe." With those confusing words, he turned and strode out the door, leaving her to see herself out.

Amala frowned as Megan listened at the door of the sitting room. She had voiced her disagreement with the idea of listening in to the grownups. Her stomach felt funny at the idea that her father would be mad at her for doing something she knew was wrong. Amala crept closer and whispered in Megan's ear. "What are they saying?"

Megan stamped her foot. "I can't hear. Be quiet."

"Sorry." Amala fell silent.

Megan leaned closer to the door and then frowned. "Papa's mad at the lady."

"Why?"

"Shh! I don't know." Megan frowned at her friend again. Amala's bottom lip began to quiver. "They're coming!" Megan spun and grabbed Amala by the sleeve of her dress and quickly pulled her across the foyer to hide under the staircase. Amala peered out from the darkened area as Mr. Barton strode by, holding something carefully in his arms.

Once he'd passed them by without seeing, Amala lowered herself to the ground and sighed. "I'm glad he didn't see."

Megan's eyes were round. Amala frowned. "What's wrong?"

"He said…" She hiccupped lightly, her shoulders beginning to shake. "He said I might not stay."

Amala huffed. "You can't leave. He's your Papa. He can't send you away."

"Mama sent me away." Megan pointed out as she began to cry. "Grownups don't like me, they always send me away."

The tiny Arabic girl's lip began to quiver. "I don't want you to go. You're my best friend."

Amala scrubbed at her eyes and clutched Murray the turtle closer, then sniffled, her decision made. "I'll make my daddy make your papa let you stay."

"Your daddy can do that?"

"Yes. My daddy can do anything. He's a Maganana." She nodded, happy once more. "And your papa and m daddy are friends and friends can make each other change their minds."

"Really?" Megan looked at Amala doubtfully.

Amala smiled reassuringly. "Yes. My daddy calls it the power of perversion."

"Perversion" She paused for a moment. "Then make your daddy make my papa let me stay, please."

"Mr. Wufei!" The tiny girl was a blur as she flew down the staircase. Wufei barely had the time to brace himself before Megan took a flying leap at him. He caught her smoothly, unable to resist the smile that came to his face. He'd never in his life gotten such an enthusiastic greeting. Megan's arms laced around his neck, hugging him tightly. Gingerly he returned the gesture, afraid of hurting the fragile little body.

She pulled back and stared at him for a moment, smiling happily. "You're going to take me to the park while Papa and Babu are busy!"

"I know." He replied in all seriousness.

"Can we go somewhere else instead?" She grinned, another of those smiles that Quatre had claimed would instantly wrap him around her finger.

Wufei was stunned to find that he did indeed seem to have a soft spot for that smile. He nodded. "Where would you like to go?"

"The wedding store." Megan responded promptly.

Wufei chuckled. "Why do we need to go to the wedding store? Do you need to buy a husband?"

"Right on time, Wufei." Quatre's voice broke into the conversation. Wufei lifted his eyes from the child to his friend.

Quatre continued as he extended a sheet of paper to Wufei. "Thank you for coming."

"You're welcome." He responded as he shifted Megan to accept the paper. "What's this?"

"Information." Quatre smiled. "All of our phone numbers."

"I already have those memorized." Wufei frowned slightly.

"And," The blond man continued oblivious to the interruption. "The number to the pediatrician and the address of the nearest hospital. I've mapped out the route you'll be taking to the park and the ice cream shop. Please don't let her have any with sugar in it. We'd much rather her have the sugar-free variety. Trowa and I should be back around 6 at the latest. Let's see is there anything I've forgotten…" He tapped his finger on his chin thoughtfully.

Wufei folded the paper as best he could and stuffed it into his pocket. "Quatre, I believe I know everything I need to. She's potty trained and can feed herself. Besides, I've just been informed that we aren't going to the park. We're going to the wedding store."

"Yes!" Megan agreed seriously. "I want to buy Mr. Wufei a ring."

Obsidian eyes flickered back to the small girl who sat primly in the crook of his elbow. "Why do I need a ring?"

"One like Papa and Babu wear…"

He glanced to Quatre's hands. The Arabian man was regarding them with no small level of amusement. As usual Quatre's fingers were bare of any adornment aside from his wedding band. "A wedding band?" Wufei's confusion grew by degrees. "But Megan, I'm not married."

"Not yet, Mr. Wufei. But you will be someday and it's best to be prepared." She shook her index finger at him.

Wufei glanced to Quatre once again. The other man was barely containing his laughter. "Winner, I don't see what's so funny."

Quatre gestured to Megan. "I think you should let her explain it."

The Chinese man shifted his eyes back to Megan who was smiling happily. "Megan, I'm not going to get married for a very long time."

"I know, not until I'm bigger. Papa said I have to be a grown-up first. But you might meet someone else cause that's a long time from now. So I want you to wear a ring and pretend to be married so no one else will try to take you."

"Take me?" He repeated dumbly, the gist of her jabber setting in. "You want me to marry you when you grow up?"

"Yes sir." She smiled triumphantly. "Papa and Babu said you would."

He cut his eyes to Quatre once more, whose mouth was hidden behind his hand and shoulders shaking in silent mirth. He bit back a groan. "Megan, I'll make a deal with you. If you'll wait another… 13 years and ask me again, then we'll talk about it."

Quatre's eyes widened in shock as Wufei smirked at him. His eyes immediately narrowed. Wufei's smirk turned decidedly nasty. "In fact, Megan… I'll make you a promise." Quatre's left eyes began to twitch.

Megan listened attentively. "What promise?"

"I promise that when you turn eighteen, if you still want to marry me, we'll go on a date."

"A real date?" Megan poked his cheek carefully, staring at his eyes intently.

"Yes. A real date. With a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant and then dancing afterwards. And…"

He paused, glancing to his friend once more. Quatre was now bordering on livid, Wufei chuckled in smug satisfaction. "I'll even give you a kiss."

"A real kiss? Like Papa and Babu?" She perked up considerably.

"Okay! That's enough of that. Megan… you behave and don't pester Wufei about that." Quatre gave Wufei the evil eye. "you won't remember it when you're 18 anyway, so at least I can rest easy about that."

"I'll 'member, Babu." Megan leaned over and graced Quatre with a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Okay then…" Quatre hugged her, his voice shifting to one of blatant indulgence. "Wufei, please remember… no sugared stuff. We don't need her up all night again. And absolutely NO mountain dew."

"Yes, Quatre." Wufei sighed dubiously. How hard could keeping up with one child be?


	11. From the poem Demon

Trowa stared at his husband, taking note of how Quatre's eyes crinkled at the corners. The blond man's gaze was focused on the file in front of him. Trowa's stomach twisted as he waited for Quatre's verdict. At last his mate closed the folder and placed it with the others, lifting his gaze to Trowa. The auburn haired man straightened and reached for his coffee cup. "What do you think?"

"I think…" Quatre paused thoughtfully. "You're sure that consolidation is the best thing? With a portfolio this size, you should probably consider diversifying instead."

"I don't understand." Trowa frowned.

Quatre signaled to the waitress for a refill on his coffee. As he doctored the steaming brew he pressed his lips together in a thin line. "You took some business classes when you went to University, so you know a little about the importance of not putting all your eggs in one basket. But Trowa… this is a lot of eggs so to speak. If the markets take a dive in any of the areas that you picked, you risk losing a good amount of money."

Trowa's frown did not ease. Quatre sighed and continued. "These stocks that you've chosen are high-yield, that also means they're high-risk. Volatile stocks are fine for a small percentage of your investments, but for the long term I'd advise you not to choose something so unstable."

"So what should I do?" Trowa resisted the urge to throw his hands up in the air.

Quatre's teeth worried at his lower lip for a few minutes. "Unless you want to take the reins of Hanahan Financial Group, I'd look into hiring a new CEO until Megan comes of age."

"Quatre… I don't want her to feel the same kind of pressure you did growing up. I want it to be her choice, not her reason for living." Trowa sighed heavily.

His spouse nodded. "I can see where you're coming from on that front, but you asked for my opinion. Otherwise, there's always the option of merging with WEI."

"But that's so permanent." Trowa frowned.

Quatre shook his head and took a sip of his coffee before speaking. "Not necessarily. There can be a stipulation in the contract that the merger will last for a certain term of time until Megan's ready to take over."

"You can do that?"

"Of course. WEI owns several other smaller entities as simply a parent company. More like an investor than an actual governing body within the smaller corporations. Hanahan Financial group would be no different. I'll bring the notion up to my board if you'd like." Quatre's calming voice soothed the roiling emotions within Trowa.

Trowa nodded gratefully. "That might be for the best."

"Good. I'll put something together for you to look at by the end of next week."

"Thank you, Quatre."

The other man smiled gently. "I love you, Trowa."

They fell silent for a few minutes before Trowa frowned. "She's going to be starting kindergarten in the fall. I suppose I should look into schools, shouldn't I?"

"You want her in school? You don't want tutors?" Quatre arched a brow, not commenting on the implication in those words.

Trowa shrugged lightly. "I really hadn't thought that far. I want her to be socially skilled, not like I was at her age…and I also don't want her to be a snob. But it would be easier to keep up with her progress if she were home schooled."

"Amala will be going to the Montessori program. Maybe we should consider that?" Quatre suggested carefully. "If she stays." He pushed gently.

Emerald eyes widened in surprise. "Oh. I guess I am getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"

Quatre's heart sank. He rubbed his chest absently as he fought back the feeling of imminent loss. He'd promised himself he wouldn't do it, but he'd already grown attached to Megan. He searched for words to broach the subject. "Trowa, we need to talk about that."

Trowa's beautiful eyes sought his, calmly waiting for him to continue. "Rashid told me that Amala and Megan overheard your conversation with Lady Une yesterday. They were both quite upset by the idea that Megan might not stay. I don't want to rush you, my heart… but Megan is growing more attached to both of us. A decision needs to be made very soon."

"Should I keep her?" Trowa's question came on the heels of Quatre's last word.

Quatre's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't expected such a blatant inquiry. "I… it's your decision, Trowa. I've already told you I won't make it for you."

"But you do have an opinion, Quatre." Trowa's voice held a sharp edge. "This isn't one of those issues where we can not interfere in each other's business and decisions…" He tensed visibly. "You need to tell me how you feel or I'll forever be afraid of you resenting me for making a choice you don't agree with. This isn't just my life, it's our life together."

"I hadn't thought of it like that." Quatre bit his lower lips for a moment. It was fast becoming a habit. He laced his hands together in his lap, out of view of Trowa's questioning gaze. He drew in a deep breath. "If I tell you what I think, you have to swear to me you won't try to use it as an excuse to sway your feelings."

"Of course." His husband responded promptly.

Quatre's nails broke the skin of his hands as he spoke haltingly, "I think… I'm attached to Megan, Trowa. And it doesn't matter to me who her mother was. What matters to me is that she's a part of you. When she's around, you light up in a way you never have before. You're gentle and kind and patient. And you're also so adorably at a loss I can't help but love you all the more for it. Megan makes you happy. I know we were happy before she came, but I can't imagine going back to that quiet existence again. Our home practically vibrates with laughter and curiosity with her in it. And her being thrums with happiness when she's near either of us. The sadness she feels at losing her mother recedes for a few precious minutes when you hold her. And I could really get used to muddy kisses."

He took a deep breath. "Trowa, I love you and I love Megan. I want her to stay. But if you decide you're not ready for it… I'll understand and deal with the loss of these things in time. And if we don't keep her, we'll still be able to see her and I'll content myself with that."

He finished with a heavy sigh, his fingers unclenching a little. Trowa's cheek poked out where he pushed his tongue into it, just one of his habits when he was in deep thought. Quatre reached for his coffee cup and drained the quickly cooling liquid to hide his unease.

Trowa remained quiet as he mulled over Quatre's words. There was truth to it, he knew that much. Megan did feel… right. His doubts about parenthood weren't gone. The idea that he'd inadvertently hurt her sent a torrent of pain through his chest. He lowered his eyes to his mug of coffee, chewing his tongue thoughtfully. It was an amazing feeling to see someone that had his nose. Someone had his something… it was a feeling he'd never had before. A connection he hadn't felt with even Catherine when they'd found out they were indeed related.

It tore his heart out to think of causing Megan more pain if he forced her out of their home, their lives. He and Quatre had discussed children, but never as anything more than a vague idea for the future. Then Megan had been dropped into their lives, however disrupting it had been… it had triggered some latent instinct in him. His heart swelled within his chest. What was that thing, that caused the fear in his stomach? Why did the idea of Megan leaving cause so much anxiety? He swallowed hard, mentally categorizing the sensations associated with it. Warmth, a tightening in his chest, he'd felt it before. "Catherine." He whispered the word in confusion.

Across from him, Quatre arched a brow. "What does Catherine have to do with this?"

Trowa shook his head. "I felt this emotion when I had amnesia and I saw her that first time in the rain. This apprehension and relief all at the same time…"

"What is it?" His husband asked patiently.

Trowa's frown deepened as he wrapped his arms together across his waist. "It's… " He trailed off and retreated inward once more, picking up his analyzation where he'd left off. Warmth, the pounding of his heart.

"I love her." He whispered softly to his coffee cup.

Something burst inside his chest and his eyes rocketed to Quatre's face. Precious, patient Quatre who'd gone through hell with him these last few weeks. The burst of relief was Quatre's. He stared at his husband as he realized in that split second that his spouse, whom he cherished more than his own life had been hurt inadvertently by his hesitation to do what any moron would know to do within a few moments of meeting their own flesh and blood. He leaned across the table and rested his hand on Quatre's cheek, wiping away a tear that tracked it's way down porcelain skin. "I'm so sorry, Quatre. I didn't realize I was hurting all three of us. Please forgive me."

Quatre covered his hand with his own. "There's nothing to forgive, Trowa. What's important is that you realized the truth in the end. We'll be fine, I promise. We're a family."

Family… somehow the word which had never held very much meaning for him suddenly meant everything. Trowa's smile was shaky, but genuine. "Yeah, we are a family… aren't we?" He pulled his hand back and scooted out of the booth, grasping Quatre's hand in his. "Come on… lets go get our daughter and give her the good news."

Quatre froze mid scoot, losing his balance and crashing to the floor. He stared up at Trowa in shock, his hand drifting to his rear end and rubbing it absently. "You said our daughter…"

"Yeah… what's mine is yours, isn't that what we promised?" Trowa's smile did not waver. He extended his good arm to assist his husband in rising from his rather undignified position on the floor. "I think we should make it official."

The blond man dusted himself off and stared owlishly. "Really?"

"Yes." Trowa's heart thudded in reaction to Quatre's happiness. "Megan Hanahan-Barton-Winner."

"Big name for a little girl, maybe we should get her opinion on it." Quatre grinned beatifically.

Trowa chuckled and pulled his husband in for a long, sweet kiss disregarding the stares they were receiving. Catherine had been right… Quatre was his bliss. And Megan would make it heaven.

Wufei patiently fastened the buckle on the restraint Megan wore. As soon as he turned her loose, she grinned at him and took off across the food court. He'd been more than a little stunned that the soda could kick in so fast. She'd given him that smile again and he'd melted. He watched as the tiny child bolted towards the soda machine again, her cup in hand. He then had to wince when she inadvertently found the end of the stretchy cord that bound her to his wrist. He silently blessed the makers of the harness restraint system for the insight in creating a humane way to keep a child on what basically amounted to a leash.

He glanced at his watch, 5:00. Quatre and Trowa would be home in less than an hour. He hoped the caffeine high would wear off by then or else he would face his friend's wrath for letting her drink something they'd specifically forbidden. He gripped the bright purple cord in one hand and began winding it towards him, wishing that they'd at least made the leash retractable. But he supposed he should simply be grateful for the contraption in the first place. It was rude to look a gift horse in the mouth. When Megan found herself by his side once more, he was once again gifted with that brilliant smile. She held the brightly colored plastic cup out to him. "Will you please carry this for me, Mr. Wufei?"

He took the cup from her and took her by the hand. "Where to next. We have time to go to one more shop."

Wufei did not feel the need to point out to a five year old that he'd already made a major dent in his Visa card with the number of bags that dangled from the hand which held the dinosaur cup. Megan grinned at him. "The wedding store."

He groaned inwardly. He'd hoped she'd forgotten. "The wedding store?" He glanced around them at the mostly dead mall, thanking his lucky stares it was a weekday. "You're really serious about the ring thing, aren't you?" He stared at her incredulously.

Megan regarded him just as seriously as she had earlier in the day. "Yes. You promised you'd buy a ring and wear it."

Wufei's groan was audible this time. "How about we get you one?"

"Me too?" She perked up visibly. "Yeah! We can both have one!"

Wufei glanced around, there had to be a convenient brick wall he could bash his head against, there just had to be. "I didn't mean it like that."

"But… you did promise."

"I…uh…" He stared at her. Those impossibly large grey eyes filled with tears. He sighed heavily. "Fine. We'll go to the wedding store."

Instantly she grinned, her world set straight again. She tugged him impatiently towards one of the myriad of jewelry shops tucked into the main concourse of the shopping center. He gritted his teeth. Once inside, she made a beeline for the case with the shiniest rings. The diamonds… no… scratch that… he realized belatedly. The uber-special high-priced diamonds that had their own special name to go with the jacked up prices. Wufei sighed and hooked a hand in the harness and lifted her easily, settling her on one hip. He stared at her patiently. "Megan, a simple band will do… we don't need diamonds yet."

"Why not?" She inquired just as seriously.

He stared at her, perturbed by the straightforward question. He scrambled for an answer. This was ridiculous to argue about with a child. Yet, there he was in a jewelry store with her, a ridiculous situation in and of itself. He had promised though, and he was a man of his word. "Because I want to give you a diamond when you and I are officially engaged. After I've asked your fathers' permission to marry you."

"Ooooh. Good idea." Megan grinned and threw her arms around his neck, pressing a sticky kiss to his cheek.

"How may I help you, Sir?" A fair-haired young lady greeted them. She gave a toothy grin. Wufei could see the dollar signs flashing in her eyes. He sighed inwardly, damning his sense of honor for the hundredth time that afternoon.

"Yes, I need two thin gold bands."

"Yellow or white gold?"

"White!" Megan interrupted promptly. Wufei stared at her for a moment in surprise. She grinned. "Mama says that yellow gold looks cheap."

Wufei's head was spinning. He weakly echoed Megan. "White…"

"Very good choice young lady. And do you know why diamonds look better in white gold, too?" The clerk smiled indulgently.

He was tempted to wring her neck. Megan however had other ideas. "Cause yellow gold makes them look yellow and that's bad."

The clerk tittered gleefully. "A very educated daughter you have there, Sir."

Wufei frowned. "She's not my daughter… she's my…" He paused. "Niece." That was close enough he figured.

Megan grinned happily as the woman directed them to the case holding the wedding bands. Megan leaned closer and stared, enraptured by the sparkling surfaces. She clapped her hands together happily and pointed to two with braided surfaces. "I like those ones!"

"These." Wufei corrected gently and carefully set his packages and the plastic cup aside to free his hand to lift one of the bands free from the tray. The bands were thin, not really even resembling a wedding band. He carefully shifted Megan and slid it onto his right ring finger. It fit perfectly. Megan clung to his neck and craned to see the ring. She grinned happily. "I like that one."

Wufei sighed heavily and slipped the band off, glancing at the price. To his surprise it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. The clerk beckoned to him and leaned in as though to tell him a secret. She winked at him. "We're having a clearance sale. These are 75 off the marked price."

Wufei did a quick calculation and arched brow skeptically. "Really?"

"Yes, Sir. We also have a lifetime warranty that covers repairs and replacement if it's ever lost or stolen."

Wufei considered for a moment, then glanced at Megan. "You like this one?"

She nodded emphatically. "It's pretty. And I can have the one to match!" Her grin erased any thought of rejecting her now.

He sighed heavily. "But the other band is too big for you. Wouldn't you rather have a ring that fits?"

"No." She grinned, evidently proud of herself. "Cause then it won't fit when I get growed up."

"Grown up." He corrected reflexively. "How do you intend to wear it then?"

"On a necklace. Like Mama wore Grandpa and Grandma's ring after they went to heaven. Cause they didn't fit her either."

"Right. Of course." He sighed and gingerly set Megan on the ground as he reached for his wallet. "I'll take both rings and a chain."

"Very good, Sir. Will you be needing a box?"

He glanced to Megan who was bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. "No, I think we'll just take them as they are. Could you please put the women's ring on the chain so she can wear it out of the store?"

"Yes, Sir." She named the total and Wufei mentally calculated how much he'd spent on this child who wasn't his in just a few hours. He signed off on the receipt and suppressed a groan of pain at the damage done to his bank account. Quatre and Trowa would be reimbursing him anyway. He'd come to that decision with the first Barbie he'd put on the credit card.

He accepted the ticket and shoved it and his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. He knelt in front of Megan and slipped the chain with the ring on it over her head. She giggled happily as he pushed the men's ring unceremoniously onto the ring finger of his right hand once more. A place, he resigned himself to, it would occupy for a long time to come. "There, does that please you?"

"Yes, very much." She hugged him tightly.

"Are you ready to go home now? Your fathers will be home soon."

"Yes!" She bounced again. "Will you carry my bags?"

"Of course, that's a husband's job, isn't it?" He snorted dryly. "You're wish is my command." Wufei rose to his feet and arranged the bags onto his aching arm again, carefully grasping the cup of mountain dew in one hand and Megan's hand in the other. Yes indeed, an interesting day after all.

"And we went to the wedding store and Mr. Wufei bought us matching rings and I drank THREE mountain dews and I got two new Barbies and a girl lion to keep Leo company so he won't get lonely while I play with Amala." Megan chattered happily as Trowa tucked her into bed.

Quatre glanced across the bed at his husband as Trowa listened with half an ear. As Megan's words suddenly made sense, Trowa's eyes widened. He interrupted her. "Matching bands?"

Quatre chuckled softly. Megan fished something attached to a white gold chain out from under her night shirt and held it up for Trowa's inspection. "Yes. Cause we're gonna get married when I'm all growed up. Isn't it pretty Papa?"

Trowa blinked. "Aren't you a little young to think about marriage?"

"It's never too soon to plan for the future." She parroted the words she'd obviously heard an adult say at some point in her short life. "And I decided that if you don't want me to stay here, I can stay with Mr. Wufei so I'll still get to see you."

Quatre blinked in surprise. Trowa fell silent as he watched his child toy with the ring. He reached out and gently extracted it from her grasp. "Why don't you keep this under your shirt so you don't lose it, baby. And no, you won't be going to live with Wufei or anyone else. Babu and I decided that we want you to stay here with us." Trowa hesitated, obviously unsure of himself. "That is if you want to."

Megan's worried frown smoothed out into a grin. "Really?"

"Yes." Trowa's fear of rejection knotted in Quatre's chest. "Do you want to stay with us?"

She nodded. "Yes, Papa."

"Why?" The question slipped from Trowa's lips. Quatre knew instinctively he hadn't meant for it to be said out loud.

Megan giggled. "Papa, you're silly. Cause I love you and I love Babu. I'm glad Amala's Daddy used the power of perversion to change your mind!"

"Excuse me… the power of perver…" Trowa trailed off into silence, shifting his gaze to Quatre who was by now convulsing with the effort it took to contain his laughter. Understanding dawned in Trowa's eyes. "Oh! Persuasion… the power of persuasion?"

"That's what I said." Megan glanced to Quatre. "Papa, is Baby okay?"

Trowa chuckled and pulled Megan into a tight hug. "Yes, baby… Babu is fine. He's just happy because we love you very much too."

"Oh." Megan returned the hug and kissed each of them on the cheek in turn. "Good night, Papa. Night Babu."

Quatre rose from his spot on the bed and crossed to the door, flipping off the light as they retreated from the room. He slipped his hand into Trowa's as they made their way across the hall to their own room. Once inside the room, his eyes lifted to his husband's. Trowa's heart was completely relaxed for the first time in months. He reached out with his free hand and traced the outline of his lover's lips. "I'm happy, Trowa."

"Me too, but…" Trowa paused, his words trailing off for a moment as he glanced at their closed door. "I'm worried, for all of us."

Quatre laughed softly. "That, my heart, is the nature of love. It will never completely go away. Embrace it as you do all the positive things and I promise you, everything will be fine."

"Everything will be fine." Trowa echoed, reassured for the moment. He pressed a butterfly kiss to Quatre's fingertips. "Yeah, we will be fine… won't we?"

Fin


End file.
